Show Me Your Teeth
by floralscented
Summary: All 16-year-old Honey Hart wanted was to make it to 18 without getting kicked out of his latest foster home and MAYBE find out what happened to his missing older sister. The last thing he needed was for his life to be overrun by drama, danger, or vampires- or worst of all, dangerously dramatic vampires. Unfortunately, fate didn't seem to have gotten the memo. Emmett/Trans OMC
1. Chapter 1

_Hi lovelies! It's been like, a distressingly long time since I've posted anything knew. probably like 4-5 years? my last fandom work was Hetalia soooo..._

 _Anyway, Twilight isn't my usual domain, but frankly, I'm bored, and this universe is always fun to play with. I came up with some new OCs recently and this seemed like the best sandbox for them, so here we are!_

 _A few bits of housekeeping before we get too far into this- While this is a Twilight fic, I'm having fun with it, so I'm taking a few liberties. Mainly, Jasper doesn't exist (or at least isn't a Cullen) for the sake of conveniece but mostly because I hate him for being a creepy Confederate weirdo. the ships are gonna be Emmett/OMC, Alice/OFC, Rosalie/Edward, and Carlisle/Esme. This fic is set in modern day, where the Cullens either never met Bella Swan or she never got involved with them. Not because I don't like Bella, she just doesn't fit here._

 _Lastly, OMC is is a black trans man. It'll probably be mentioned at some point in the story, I just wanted to put it out there right away so I don't have to deal with any racist/transphobic bullshit. If you don't like that, tough tits babe. The back button is right there, feel free to make use of it._

 _Anyway, thats enough rambling from me. Enjoy, and please drop me a review when you're done!_

The thing was, Honey was pretty sure that, for once, it wasn't even his fault. It's not like he'd started the fight with the guy- he'd simply ended it. And if anything, everyone should be admiring his patience, really. He'd put up with nearly two months of transphobic comments and thin veiled threats before the asshole had the audacity to grope his ass and snap what was left of Honey's (admittedly minimal to begin with) self control. As far as he was concerned, breaking that fucking neanderthal's arm was practically a public service. But had his foster parents seen it like that? Noooo, of course not. They'd simply given him a bunch of inane lectures, throwing around terms like 'patterns of violence' and 'lack of self control' and, worst of all, 'a danger to the other children.' It probably didn't help that the poor fucker who's arm he'd broken just happened to be their biological son. Oops.

So, just like that, they'd washed their hands of him. It's not as if Honey had been particularly broken up about that, really. It wasn't the worst foster home he'd been in (not by a long shot) but it hadn't been particularly good either. The parents were clearly the type of people who had good intentions, and they'd at least had the decency to respect Honey's name and pronouns, albeit with a frankly insulting air of indulgence. The other children left a lot to be desired, but that was par for the course, really. One of the girl's had a bad case of sticky fingers (which was annoying but manageable- its not like Honey had anything of value, really), one of the younger boys had anger issues (which honestly, was pretty understandable, given his general situation), and the biological son, well... see above.

Needless to say, Honey would have been perfectly content to pack up and head for his next prison- oh, excuse me, _home_ \- if it hadn't been for the bombshell his newest social worker, Wendy, dropped on him as his latest/former house disappeared in the rear view.

"What do you mean, this is my last chance?" He demanded from his place in the backseat (which was fucking bullshit, he was plenty old enough to sit in the front. Wendy was probably just to scared of his 'uncontrollable temper" to sit next to him, the coward).

"I mean exactly what I said, Honey," she answered him. To her credit, she looked and sounded fairly unshaken. Huh, maybe it was just pettiness keeping him banished to the backseat like a damn toddler. "In the past 13 years, you've been in 23 foster homes. Twenty-three! That's unacceptable, and speaks to an unsettling pattern on your end."

Honey couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes. "God, that's fucking bullshit and you know it. Not all of them were my fault! Sometimes parents decided not to foster anymore, or were declared unfit. Besides, half of those were caused by R-..." Honey trailed off. No, no thinking of that traitorous bitch, not now, not ever.

"Listen, kiddo," Wendy started, softening a little in pity, which, _eww_. Honey's absolute least favorite emotion ever, hands down. "Even if we wanted to keep re-homing you indefinitely, it's just not possible. It's not as if the system has an infinite line of foster parents eager to take in sullen, trouble-making teenagers. We've basically run out of potential placements for you. This is the last family willing to give you a try; after this, its juvenile hall."

"Don't see why I can't just be emancipated and be done with it," He grumbles, sinking down in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest. Sure, he knew he wasn't exactly the ideal child, but it stung to hear that no one wanted him.

Wendy let out a loud sigh, clearly tired of hearing that old argument. "Really, Honey? You and I both know that no judge in their right mind would look at your history and declare you responsible or mature enough to talk care of yourself."

Honey didn't bother acknowledging what she said (mostly because it was true), changing the topic instead. "Where are we headed, then? Tell me I don't have to stay in this crappy town. If I still have to be confronted by that smarmy cock and his friends every day I can't promise I won't break the other arm."

Wendy cut him an unimpressed look in the rear view mirror but otherwise didn't reprimand him, which, bless her. Honey knew there was a reason he liked her better than the previous three social workers he'd been saddled with. "No, you're not staying here. Although I doubt you'll like your new placement location any better. You're going to Charlotte- it's this tiny little fishing village a few hours north of here. Cute, but quiet. The better to keep you out of trouble."

Honey groaned, sinking further down in seat. Fuck, could this get any worse? Small towns were the _worst_ , especially if he was supposed to be behaving himself. Not only would he probably have to deal with twice as many ignorant assholes, but he'd basically be boned in the entertainment department. He couldn't even turn to less savory avenues of amusement, since this was apparently his last chance. God, a year and a half of boredom, country bumpkins, and being on his best behavior? There was no way he was going to make it out alive.

Honey had to admit, for a boring podunk shithole, Charlotte was actually rather pretty. Or at least, it probably would be on a nice day. it looked like the quintessential cute seaside town- one main road along the coast with a few quaint shops and local business, a nice beach (abandoned currently do to the overcast, dreary day), and a singular gas station with a little Tim Horton's attached. It looked like a damn postcard.

Honey hated in on principle.

The drive had remained blissfully silent after Wendy's earlier revelation, mostly due to Honey putting on headphones and stubbornly refusing to remove his gaze from the window. Wendy gave up on trying to engage him pretty quickly after that. He reluctantly removed his headphones as they cruised leisurely down the main drag.

"This is it?" He clarified, as if the charmingly weathered sign proclaiming 'Welcome to Charlotte!' hadn't been enough of a tip-off. "This looks like the kind of place old people come to die quietly."

"Don't be so negative," Wendy admonished with a roll of her eyes as she turned down one of the residential side streets. "Think of this as a fresh start, rather than a last resort. I think you could really enjoy this place if you give it a chance."

Now it was Honey's turn to roll his eyes. "Yeah, sure, Wendy. This is clearly where I belong, in the most stereotypical tourist trap town known to man. I'll try not to cream my pants out of sheer excitement for this amazing opportunity."

"Well, I don't know about tourist trap," Wendy countered, shrugging a shoulder. "From what I've heard today's weather is pretty standard fare around here. Not quite a common vacation destination.

Honey scoffed. "Great, that makes it so much better. I'm really trapped in the shittiest fishing village known to man."

They drove into a cul-de-sac on a hill, pulling into the driveway that was right at the top. Wendy parked, sighing from the front seat. "I know this isn't an ideal situation. Hell, if I was in your shoes, I'd probably be feeling the same way. But this is where your choices have gotten you, Honey. Plain and simple. You can continue on as you always have- make rash, thoughtless decisions, and ruin your last chance at something good. Or, you can grow up and finally make an effort at belonging somewhere. In the end it's up to you, but I know what option I'd go with."

Several moments passed without Honey acknowledging that he'd even heard her. It wasn't until Wendy reached for the door, giving it up as a lost cause, that he finally spoke. "I'll try my best, okay? No promises."

Wendy smiled tiredly. That was the best she was gonna get from this one. The pair climbed out of the car together, Honey reaching into the SUV's trunk to grab his single duffel bag. He couldn't help the familiar tingle of trepidation as the climbed the drive way toward his new, hopefully not _too_ temporary, home. What if he didn't like his foster parents? What if they didn't like him? What if they were abusive, or racist or transphobic, what if he-

His train of thought was cut off by the front door swinging open, revealing a woman. She didn't seem too old, maybe in her mid to late forties, with long grey-streaked chestnut hair gathered at the nape of her neck with a large hair clip. Her face was pretty, yet careworn, light wrinkles around her kind brown eyes and smile lines around her mouth. She was average height, maybe an inch or two taller than Honey, and seemed to be of medium build in her striped blouse and faded jeans. Honey didn't let her warm, inviting appearance fool him, however. Plenty of people could put on a good show around social workers. It's when Wendy left that he'd be able to get a good judge of her character.

"Hi, you must be Honey, right?" the woman asked, coming down the steps to shake his hand. Honey privately put one point in her favor- he hated when foster parents tried to greet him with a hug. It always came off as fake and uncomfortable. "My name is Helena Green."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am," He greeted politely, if a bit blandly. No need to start of rude, after all. He'd have plenty of time to be a dick to her if she turned out to be less than ideal. The woman waved him off with a soft smile.

"Please, call me Helena. You'll hopefully be staying here for a while, no need to be formal. Now why don't we head inside, get you situated?"

That's Wendy's cue to head out. She reaches out and gives Honey's shoulder a soft squeeze, which he tolerates. "I better head out, kiddo, it's a long ride home. I"ll be in touch soon. Remember what I said, and try to stay out of trouble, huh?"

Honey gave a noncommittal shrug, refusing to make eye contact. No way was he engaging in some stupid sappy Hallmark moment, okay? fuck that noise. Accepting that that was all she was going to get from him, Wendy released his shoulder and went back to her car. Honey did his best to ignore the little tug of apprehension he always felt when left at a new foster home. No time to be a pussy, he better get this show on the road.

He followed Helena into the house, making sure to slip off his red low-top sneakers at the door. He did a quick glance at the shoe rack, noting that there didn't seem to be any children's shoes. Most likely, he was the only foster child at the moment. Fuckin' score! Helena led him up the staircase right beside the front door, glancing back at him.

"Sorry in advance for the state of your room. We've been using it as a guest room for the last few years, so it's pretty bare bones right now. If you don't like it, we can go into town next weekend and buy some new things." Honey nodded absently. He'd been through this whole rigmarole enough times to know not to bother taking his new foster mother up on the offer. No need to get emotionally attached to new shit that he most likely wouldn't even get to keep when he left. He'd just stick with whatever was already there.

Surprisingly, what was there was pretty fucking awesome. It was spacious, probably the master bedroom- which, wow, that was a first- with walls painted a nondescript shade of yellow. There was a huge picture window on the far wall, a desk set up underneath it. A king size bed with an ornate white metal headboard was tucked into the corner, and there was a large dresser on the other side of the room. Honey wandered further into the room, setting his duffel bag down on the ground with a soft thump. Helena hadn't lied about it being bland, but that was hardly a problem. Honey had put up with far worse, after all.

"I'll let you settle in," Helena said from her place by the door. Thank the gods, she wasn't going to be one of those annoying hover parents who tried to hold his hand through everything. "I'll call you down for dinner, but until then, feel free to unpack or nap or whatever you want. I'm sure today has been pretty tiring for you."

Honey nodded, already making his way over to the big, comfortable looking bed. Not wanting to be rude to the seemingly chill woman, Honey smiled at her. "Thanks, I appreciate it. I'm pretty beat."

The woman hummed softly, breezing out the door and closing it behind her. Honey noted that the door has a lock which -thank fucking god- locks from the inside. After a quick detour to flick off the lights and engage the lock, Honey stripped off his pants and sweater and crawled into the bed. Packing could wait, he'd earned a fucking nap. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 _Soooooo, there's chapter one! I'm actually really excited about this story, I have a lot of ideas and I think this is going to be really fun to write. Let me know what you guys think though! Reviews are an author's favorite snack._


	2. Chapter 2

_Hi guys! I swear, I meant to get started on this chapter way sooner, but ive been pretty swamped with work and just life in general. Also I noticed that the line breaks I tried to put in the last chapter didn't work so I'm trying something different. Lets hope second time's the charm. Also! I changed the title from Ursus Amator to Show Me Your Teeth because im #indecisive. Thank the people who reviewed/favorited/followed this fic, you're support means everything. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!_

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If there was one thing Honey could always count on to hold true, it was the sheer mindnumbing boredom that came with the first day in a new foster home. He'd managed to eke out a measly hour and a half of nap time before his traitor of a body decided enough was enough. He'd wasted another hour taking all his clothes out of his duffel and filling up his dresser and half the closet, which brought him squarely to the end of his list of time wasting activities with at least another solid two hours of time before dinner could realistically be had.

He opened his phone to surf the internet for a while, but frowned when he remembered he didn't have the wifi password. He flipped through his contacts halfheartedly, knowing there wasn't anyone left that he truly had an desire to keep up contact with. Sighing, he gave up, flopping down on the bed. Just as he was settling down to force himself back into a light doze, someone tapped at his door.

"Yeah?" Honey called out, tone pleasant enough. Internally, he put a tick in his foster parents' favor for knocking rather than trying to barge right in.

"Would you mind running down to the store for me?" Helena asked from the other side of the door. "I was going to make strawberry shortcakes for dessert, but my husband, Wendall, must have gotten into the strawberries last night, and we used all the whipped cream last time."

Honey bit back his initial response, which was to ask why she'd even bother making it when she was missed two thirds of her ingredients. Instead, he got of his bed, pulling his pants back on and shrugging back into his sweater. "Sure, I can do that."

"I'm sorry to bug you," Helena said as Honey pulled his bedroom door open, sounding genuinely regretful. "But Wendall is out of town for a few days, and I'm in the middle of a project."

"Don't sweat it," He shrugged it off, shooting her an easy smile. "I wasn't doing anything, a little adventure should be fun."

Helena handed over a twenty dollar bill, alreaady turning away to disappear up to the third floor. "The Ready-Mart is on the main road, about a ten minute walk to the right."

Honey vaguely recalled passing a building bearing that name on his way into town, and wrinkled his nose. If that tiny thing was the grocery store, he'd hate to see what passed for good retail aroud this shit hole town.

He jogged down the stairs, stopping at the door to put his shoes back on. As soon as he walked out the door, he noticed that the earlier dreary skies had given way to a steadt rain. He briefly considered saying fuck it and turning right back around, but pushed forward, twitching his hood up over his already frizzing hair. It wasn't like he had anthing better to do. Besides, it couldn't hurt to put himself in Helena's good books.

By the time Honey made it to the Ready-Mart, he deeply regretted his decision. There wasn't an inch of him that wasn't cold and wet from the rain. His socks were soaked from underestimating the size of a puddle less than a minute into the walk, and he probably looked like a half-drowned cat, murderous expression and all.

He trudged through the automatic door, silently thanking the gods that the heat was cranked inside. He pushed the hood off his head to stave off any suspicious looks from employees as he made his was to the truly pathetic produce section. Guess he wasn't going to be eating anything exotic or exciting for a while. He put off his scathing internal review for long enough to pick out the package that seems the farthest from rotting, then moved to the back of the store to grab a can of whipped cream. Quest complete, he went up to the cash, setting his purchases down with a light _thunk._ The cashier, a chubby brunette around his age, gave him a funny look as she scanned his items.

"You're not from around here." She said, more statement than question.

"Ahh, the small town racism is happening already," He noted, a sarcastic little smirk playing at his lips. "And here I thought I'd have to wait a full day before I go to deal with that particular delight."

"Wh- No!" She spluttered, looking absolutely mortified. "I just meant I haven't seen you around school, not-"

Honey waved her off, handing her the $20 . "I know, I was just messing with you. No hard feelings"

The glare she sent him said otherwise as she snatched the bill from his hand, punching it into the register and practically shoving his change at him. Honey took his bag, rolling his eyes. God, some people really couldn't take a joke.

Because his luck was absolute shit on the best of days, Honey ran into with someone on his way out of the way out, the force of the collision enough to knock him on his ass into a puddle of dirty water. The other person, a tall, douchey looking teenager with hard blue eyes and over-gelled black hair, glared down at him.

"Watch it, faggot," He spat, he and his two asshole friends brushing past into the store. Honey forced himself to get up and make his way back to his foster parents' house instead of confronting the guy. Getting into a fight in the middle of a grocery store on his very first day probably wouldn't look good to his new foster parents.

As he walked down the street, he took a deep breath. So he'd run into a few assholes. Every town had a few of them, he'd just found them a ittle earlier than he'd expected. No biggie. Now he knew who he had to avoid. He could handle that. Everything was going to be-

A silver Jeep Wrangler sped past, driving trough a puddle sending up a spray of dirty water that- you guessed it- splashed onto Honey, soaking him to the bone. He stood there for a moment, shocked into stillness, before slowly reaching up to wipe puddle water from his eyes.

He fucking hated this town.

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After a squishy, miserable walk home, Honey trudged up the front steps, kicking off his shoes on the front porch. He made a quick detour to drop off the food in the fridge, leaving the change on a side table in the hall before he his way up to the second floor. He walked down the hall and stood at the bottom of the stairs leading to the mysterious third floor.

"Helena?" He called up, managing to keep his general annoyance out of his voice. Helena appeared at the top of the stairs. At first she seemed confused, but one look at her bedragled form had her eyebrows flying up her forehead as she bustled down the stairs.

"Oh dear, I didn't realize it was raining that hard, or I would have just driven over myself. I'm sorry, sweetie." She apologized.

"Don't worry about it, this is on some passing motorist, not the rain," Honey waved it off, supressing a wince at the petname. A little familiar for his tastes, but nothing to raise a stink over. "I was just hoping to take a shower, but I don't know where anything is."

"Oh, right! It must have completely slipped my mind earlier." She passed him, leading him, surpisingly, into his bedroom. Helena went over to a door he'd completely ignored when he'd first settled in, leading to his own bathroom. It wasn't anthing too extravagant, just a toilet, sink, and shower/bathtub, but it was more than he'd ever had before.

"Face cloths and towels are under the sink, I think we have some extra body wash, shampoo and conditioner under there, if you want to use that until we can get to a store," Helena instructs, before frowning at his wet clothes. "Do you want me to wash those, or would you rather handle that yourself."

"I can do it, but thank you for offering," Honey answered, appreciating being given the option. The last time he'd let a foster mother wash his clothes for him, he'd never seen them again, replaced with frilly dresses and conservative floral blouses.

"Okay, sounds good. If you need me, I'll be downstairs," Helena said before leaving the room, giving Honey his privacy.

Honey quickly undressed, dumping his wet clothes in the conveniently placed hamper and laying out a towel. He turned the water onto almost max heat, letting it heat up before he stepped under the spray. All the tension seemed to bleed from his as soon as the water hit his skin. He tipped his head back, letting it soak his bedragled curls. God bless modern comforts.

Honey must have spent close to a half hour in the stall, washing up for a while, but mostly just enjoying the steam and warmth. When he finally managed to drag himself out, he wrapped up in the fluffy black towel and padded out to his bedroom, noting happily that Helena had closed his door on the way out. He dried himself off thoroughly before changing into a loose black t-shirt and navy blue sweats from some high school he'd attended a few foster homes ago. He eyed his bed, tempted to lay down and do nothing for until supper was called, but decided against it. He really wasn't in the mood to be alone with his thoughts. Instead, he left his room, following the sounds of activity down to the kitchen. May as well make himself useful. Besides, he'd always wanted to learn how to cook.

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 _Hi guys! Sorry it's so goddamn short, but it's been lingering in my WIPs for over a week and I wanted to bang it out. I was gonna include the dinner scene and introduce Wendall, but... meh. Not the most exciting shit. Next update will be Honey's first day of school, so that's exciting! Also, three guesses who was driving that Wrangler ;)_


	3. Chapter 3

_Hey y'all! I've apparently fallen into a Very shitty habit of updating like once a month which is very unsexy I know, my apologies. I fucked my arm up at the beginning of the month and missed a bunch of work soI've stressed and depressed and just not in the mood to write tbh. I'll (hopefully) have an update for you quickly after this but no promises, I have a bunch of things coming up in July (including my birthday), so who knows. I hope you guys like this!_

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Monday morning came in the same was every morning of the first day at a new school came: Too bright, too loud, and too fucking early.

When his alarm went off, Honey was sorely tempted to bury his head under his pillow and ignore the damn thing. Unfortunately, he doubted Helena would be impressed if she had to drive him to school because he slept in and missed the bus. He reluctantly rolled out of bed, stripping out of his pajamas and he padded into his en suite. He washed up quickly, brushing his teeth and making a halfhearted effort to make his hair presentable before giving up, pushing his hair back with a little plastic headband and heading back into his room to get dressed.

He rooted through his closet for several long minutes, trying to find somthing that fit perfectly for the first day in the middle of the semester, which was a hard balance. Too put together, and he'd look like a tryhard, but too casual, and he'd look like a sloppy weirdo. His goal was too be boring and blend in with the rest of the crowd and _hopefully_ coast through the next year and a half with relative ease. After careful deliberation, he picked out a dark grey sleeveless hoodie and tight black jeans, deciding that was as good as it was going to get for today and going downstairs.

Slinking into the kitchen, Honey was unsurprised to find Helena already at the table, sipping at her coffee as she read the paper. When Honey walked in, she smiled softly at him, inclining her head toward the stove. "I made pancakes, if you want some."

Honey nodded gratefully, setting his bookbag down near the kitchen door and going to the stove. He noticed a plate of bacon sitting nearby as he served himself, and gave his foster mother another point for not offering him any. He'd told her he was a vegetarian the first night he'd moved in, but some foster parents seemed to take that as a personal challenge to try to force meat down his throat. He sat down at the table and glanced at the clock. 7am, still plenty of time until he had to catch the bus.

"The bus stop is just at the end of the road, right?" He asked after a bite of pancake. They'd gone over this the night before, of course, but he figured it was polite to make conversation. Besides, it never hurt to double check.

"Yes, right in front of the mailbox," Helena confirmed with a little nod. "I think there are a few other kids who get on there too, so you can't miss it."

Honey hummed in acknowledgement, letting them fall back into silence when he failed to think of another question to ask. He ate his breakfast and stood, rinsing his plate and putting it in the dishwasher. With another glance at the clock, he decided it wouldn't hurt to head to the bus stop a few minutes early.

"I'm gonna leave now," He told his foster mother, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Okay, have a good day," Helena bid, putting her coffee mug down. "There's a set of keys on the hall table for you, in case I'm out when you get home. Oh, and Wendall is getting back tonight, so you'll get to meet him."

"Sounds great, I'll see you tonight," Honey called, already halfway down the hall. He grabbed the keys, zipping them into the front pocket of his bag before putting on his baggy denim jacket and shoving his shoes on, ignoring the anxiety trying to take root in his stomach.

It was stupid, but in the span of a few days, he'd managed to get a bit of a feel for this foster home. It was one of the nicer ones he'd been in, both in terms of people and the actual home itself. Helena was nice. She didn't ignore him, but she didn't hover over him like he was going to have a break down or steal all her valuables if she took her eyes off him for a few moments, either. He was scared that this Wendall character was going to turn out to be an asshole or a creep that he'd have to put up with until he either turned 18 or snapped, whichever came first.

(It was pretty fucking obvious which would come first)

Trying to put that out of his mind, Honey walked out the front door, sending up a silent thank you to no one in particular at the overcast but blessedly dry weather conditions. He clomped down the porch steps, making his way down the road at a leisurely pace. He didn't want to make it to the bus stop too early, he might have to ( _God forbid_ ) talk to someone. He pulled his jacket closed, crossing his arms over his chest. This had to be the absolute _shittiest_ town for weather he'd ever had the misfortune of staying in. He was already starting to forget what the Sun's warmth felt like. As soon as he turned 18, the was booking himself a one-way ticket to the sunniest place he could find and never looking back.

It didn't take him long before he made it to the bus stop, which already had someone waiting at it. They were a tall, lanky kid with wavy black hair in an asymmetrical pixie cut and olive skin, dressed in a bulky green canvas coat open over a white t-shirt and loose ripped jeans. All in all, they seemed relatively okay. Honey was at least comforted that he wouldn't be the only brown kid at school, apparently. He gave the kid a little nod of acknowledgment, and thanked his lucky stars when they just nodded back without taking their earbuds out. It was way too early in the morning for awkward conversation.

The two of them stood in relative silence for a few minutes before the bus rumbled up, coming to a jerky, spluttering stop in front of them. Honey gave the vehicle a wary glance as the doors squeaked open, but climbed aboard nevertheless. It's not like he had any other choice, really. The bus driver gave him a weird look as he passed, but said nothing, just grabbing a pen and jotting something down on the little clipboard on the dash.

Honey picked a seat somewhere vaguely in the middle of the bus, thankful that such a small town meant relatively empty buses. He let his head rest against the window, closing his eyes as the scenery blurred by the glass. God, he hoped this day didn't suck.

The bus ride went by quickly, 15 minutes barely passing before they reached their unfortunate destination. Honey stood, slipping in line with the other tired kids trudging off the bus. Stepping out onto the cracked asphalt, Honey got his first look at his new school, and was decidedly unimpressed. It was a small, ugly brick building, the whole front face dotted with little square windows, and a set of stone steps that led up the two rusted green doors. There were students scattered all over, some perched on the step, others sitting in the wilted brown grass or leaning against the wall. Honey stood off to the side for a few moments, trying to decide what to do, before shrugging, figuring he might as well go to the office and get his schedule sorted out and shit.

He headed up the front steps, picking his way carefully past all the annoyingly placed students. A few gave him dark looks when he narrowly avoided stepping on their fingers, but Honey ignored them. It was their own fault for being in the way. He got to the top and slipped inside, letting the heavy steel door close behind him. Thankfully, the office was directly in front of him. He approached the counter, straightening up and doing his best not to look like a problem child. A pretty blonde woman in her mid forties sat behind the counter.

"Hi, today's my first day," Honey started, giving his best approximation of a friendly smile. "I'm-"

"Honey Hart, I know," The woman interrupted, looking him up and down judgmentally, before seeming to catch herself, plastering on an obviously fake pleasant expression. " got you all registered last week. If you'll just come around the side door, the principal would like to see you in his office."

Honey sighed internally, even as he followed the receptionist's instructions. _So it began_. Every time he came to a new school, it was the same thing- they took one look at his long list of past schools and smattering of behavioral issues, and instantly labeled him a trouble maker. And if his track record wasn't quite enough to convince them, the color of his skin usually tipped them over the edge. It wasn't even his fault. Most of the time, he wasn't even the one who started any of the problems that surrounded him, and when he was, it was never anything particularly harmful. He mostly just got caught skipping class or mouthing off to teachers.

He knocked on the principals door, hearing a masculine voice immediately call for him to come in. He pushed the door open and stepped inside. The office was small, almost completely occupied by the massive desk covered in stacks of paper and an outdated computer monitor. The principal was a tall portly man in a cheap black suit with watery blue eyes and a bushy walrus moustache that couldn't quite make up for the sparse combover on top of his head.

"Ahh, Mr.. Hart, welcome," The principal stood, holding out his hand to shake. It was doughy and sweat slicked against Honey's palm, and he had to resist the urge to wipe it against his pant leg when his hand was released. "We're very happy to have you here at Charlotte High."

"Thank you, Mister...?" Honey trailed off questioningly, realizing the man hadn't introduced himself.

"Berger. Principal Berger, actually," The man corrects with a smarmy little smile, and that was it- Honey hated this guy. He could already tell he was the kind of man who got drunk on his own power, and made sure everyone else knew they were beneath them.

"Thank you, Principal Berger," Honey said again, giving a tight smile of his own, remaining standing even as the older man retook his seat. He knew it would just be counted against him if he sat down without being invited to. "I'm glad to be here."

Berger made a humming sounded, steepling his fingers as he inspected Honey with a critical eye. "Yes, I'm sure you are. Definitely a change from all those big city schools you've attended, right?"

Sensing he was being led into some sort of trap, but not having the wherewithal (or, honestly, the energy) to avoid it, Honey nodded, albeit unsurely. "Yes, sir. It's a bit different, I guess."

"Oh, there's no guessing about it. I think soon enough you'll find that this school runs _very_ different from those city schools you've been attending. I run an extremely tight ship here, and I don't tolerate hoodlums," Berger said, narrowing his eyes. Honey felt icy anger spread slowly through his stomach.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" He demanded, doing his best to keep a handle on his temper. He couldn't sink to that bastard's level. Berger leaned back in his chair, giving Honey a shrewd, assessing look before he spoke.

"I'll be frank with you, Mr.. Hart- if it were up to me, you wouldn't even be allowed to step onto this school's property. You're a troublemaker, and you seem to be going nowhere at an alarmingly fast rate. You're disrespectful, arrogant, and have zero regard for your own learning, or the learning of those around you. Unfortunately, this is the only high school for over 30 miles, and it's illegal to deny you a standard education when you haven't actually broken any rules here. But rest assured- any slip ups, any misconduct, and you're out. I won't let you waste my time, or the time of my employees. Are we clear?"

"Crystal," Honey answered, keeping his tone absolutely neutral. He couldn't let anything show, couldn't let him think he'd gotten to him. It's not like he hadn't heard the same types of things before, although with more subtle allusions and implications then Berger's statement, which was, admittedly, pretty fucking blunt.

Beger seemed satisfied, at least. He opened one of the drawers in his desk, rustling around until he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a pink slip of paper, handing it over to Honey, who had to force himself to take it politely instead of snatching it out of his gross sausage fingers. "I'm glad we could get that cleared up. There's you're schedule. It has all your classes for the next semester, plus your locker number and combination. Classes start at 8am sharp. Don't be late."

Honey stood his chair, nodding stiffly at Berger before turning and walking out of the office. On his way out to the lobby, he caught a glance at the clock. 7:50am.

That _fucker_.

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 _Okay so! Kinda short I know but I just wanna get this out to you guys soooooo yeah. Next chapter will be the rest of Honey's first day -that might involve a certain someone ;)- and HOPEFULLY we'll finally meet Wendall but like, no promises lol. Please favorite and review if you liked it, and I'll try to have the next chapter out by... Let's say next Sunday? We'll see. Love you guys, peace!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Heyyyy! So, probaby not right on time like I said it would be, but I started this chapter on the day I said I would so, like... Progress? I didn't realize until I sat down to write this just how much I hate writing first days of school lol. I hope you guys like it anyway, I'd hate to dissapoint you all. I really don't have anything else to say, other than that the next chapter wil probably be out in August sometime. I work full time, and I've got my 19th birthday, Pride, and a trip home coming up in the next three weekends, so it's gonna be hella busy here at Chez Dizzee for a while. I'll try to squeeze something out, but it's unlikely. Anyway, enough blabbing from me. Enjoy the new chap!_

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By some divine miracle, Honey managed to find his locker, put his shit inside, and hustle to homeroom (which _just so happened_ to be on the complete opposite side of the school) with about 5 seconds to spare. The bell went off, and he had to stand awkwardly by the door during the national anthem, that then switched to a feed of two awkward teenagers giving the morning announcements. Once the teacher noticed him, she made a vague gesture which he translated to 'sit anywhere'. The desks were clustered together in pods of four, which irritated Honey slightly. He'd much rather sit by himself, avoid any awkward attempts at conversation so early in the morning.

Not wanting to keep standing in the doorway looking like a dumbass, Honey made his way to one of the few empty seats at a group at the back of the room. There were already three other kids there- A thin blonde girl wearing far too much make-up, the tall kid from the bus stop that morning, and, to Honey's absolute displeasure, that asshole from the grocery store. When he sat, the asshole's eyebrows pinched together.

"Aren't you that freak from the Ready-Mart?" He sneered, looking Honey over with a critical eye. The overly made-up girl beside him giggled, as if he'd just said something devastatingly clever. Honey just barely managed to suppress an eye roll. Jesus, couldn't he go a half hour without being confronted by some over-aggressive dipshit?

"The one and only," Honey answered with a bland little salute. Ordinarily he'd have snapped off some cutting retort, but he couldn't risk escalating this situation. There was too much on the line for his temper to get the best of him, especially this early in the game.

"What are you doing here, weirdo?" The other boy asked, and this time, Honey couldn't resist the derisive snort. What was he, a high school aged teenager, doing in a high school? He opened his mouth to bite out some vaguely hostile response, but the kid from the bus stop chose that moment to but in.

"Jesus, Conrad, would you lay off? It's too early in the morning to deal with your aggressive bullshit," They said, rolling their hazel eyes. Then, they turned toward Honey. "Ignore him, he was probably dropped on his head as a baby."

"Whatever, faggots," the boy (Conrad, apparently) muttered, him and his little groupie grabbing their chairs and dragging them over to sit with another group of kids just as the announcements came to an end.

"Thanks for that," Honey said, feeling a little awkward. He hadn't had someone come to his defense like that since- well. For a while. The lanky teen waved him off with a lazy smile, calling Honey's attention to the nick in their right eyebrow.

"Don't sweat it, I always enjoy an opportunity to take that mouth-breathing jack ass down a peg or two. I'm M.L, and you are...?"

"Honey," He answered, and then, to clarify any awkward misunderstanding (as had happened before), he added "My name is Honey."

M.L looked him over, but it didn't seem critical. If anything, the look seemed vaguely hopeful. "That's a really unique name. Did you pick it out yourself?"

Picking up what the other teen was putting down, Honey smiled conspiratorially. "Not really. It was a family nickname, and when I came out, I just started using it full time because nothing else felt right. You?"

"Yeah, I picked it out myself a few years ago. It's short for My Love," M.L answered, a twinkle of mischief dancing in their eyes. "Or whatever I decide it means on any given day."

Honey decided then and there- he liked this kid.

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Unfortunately, Honey and M.L didn't share first period chemistry, although they did have third period psychology and fifth period art together. Usually Honey wouldn't take the time to care about things like that, but it was different this time. This was his last chance, hopefully his last stop before he turned 18. There was no point in keeping himself separate this time around. Its not like he was going to meet some guy and fall _wildly madly in love_ or anything, but making a friend or two wouldn't hurt.

His chemistry class was blessedly close to his homeroom, the science wing just one hallway down. He hoped his getting there so early would mean he'd have first choice of where to sit, put unfortunately, that wasn't the case. The teacher, a young-ish man with a handsome face and square glasses that gave him a vague Clark Kent vibe, called him over almost as soon as he walked in.

"Hey, I'm Mr. Guinness. You're our new student, Henry, right?" The teacher asks, giving him a charmingly boyish smile. Honey suppressed a wince. Fuck, he could already tell he was one of those well-meaning yet over enthusiastic teachers who probably made students introduce themselves.

"It's Honey, actually. Like what bees make," Honey corrected, giving an apologetic shrug. Mr. Guinness frowned briefly in confusion before seeming to get over it.

"Honey, then. Sorry about that. Anyway, why don't you stand up here with me while I figure out where to seat you?" Fuck, that was even worse than he imagined. Now everyone would get a chance to gawk at him while they filtered into class, and assigned seating was its own special brand of Hell.

Sure enough, the next three and a half minutes were full of students either giving him speculative onceovers or suspicious glares. Honey stood by Mr. Guinness' desk, fighting back his overwhelming desire to turn around and walk right out of class. He wasn't a particularly shy individual, but well, you'd be hard pressed to find someone who _enjoyed_ being stared at like some exotic new zoo animal.

Finally, the bell went off, signaling the end of his torture- or so he thought. Instead of telling him his seat and letting him slip discreetly into it, Mr. Guinness stood up, clapping his hands together to draw the class' attention to him. "Okay, students, we've got a new student with us. I expect you all to welcome him into our school, and show him some good old fashioned Charlotte hospitality." Here, he turned to Honey with an expectant smile. "Why don't you introduce yourself, tell us where you're from, and three interesting things about yourself?"

God, Honey wished the floor would open up and swallow him. Why did teachers insist on pointless exercises like this? Most of the students in this room couldn't be _paid_ to give a shit about him one way or another, there was no use in embarrassing himself by pretending otherwise. Still, it had to be done, so Honey pasted on a charming, sarcastic smile. No need to show his discomfort.

"Hey everyone, I'm Honey Hart," He started, ignoring the mean-spirited snickering that followed his announcement of his name. There were always a few in every bunch. "I transferred here from Kingston, and I like long walks on the beach, pina coladas, and getting caught in the rain."

The teacher at least seemed amused when he pointed out the table for Honey sit at. Honey picked his way toward his seat, avoiding bags and inconveniently positioned feet. His table was already occupied by another boy, albeit a handsome one. He was huge, impossibly large muscles showing clearly through his tight grey Henley, and very obviously tall, even while sitting. He looked like he could bench press Honey without breaking a sweat. He had short black hair with just a hint of endearing curls, and vibrant tawny gold eyes that danced with good humor. His bone structure was that of a modern Adonis, with square jaw, chiseled cheek bones, and a strong, straight nose. God, even his fucking _eyebrows_ were perfect. Honey didn't know whether he was turned on or jealous. ( _Both, definitely both_.)

"Very funny," He said, jolting Honey out of his brief stupor. As Honey took his seat, the other boy flashed him a cheeky grin and sweet love of God, _were those dimples_? That had to be at least a little illegal. Still, despite his internal freak out over the hotness of the absolute bear of a man beside him, Honey played it cool. The worst thing you could do in front of a hot guy was show them how hot you found them. It gave them all the power.

"Thanks. If you liked that, you should watch my Netflix comedy special. It's a riot," Honey drawled, opening his binder to the tab sectioned off for first period. Wow, Helena was sure thorough when she'd gotten his school supplies ready for him. What a doll.

"Hart, right? You must be Kevin's long lost son," The other boy joked, opening his own books as well. Honey let his lips widen into an actual smile.

"Oh, Kevin Hart only _wishes_ he was talented enough to be related to me," Honey shot playfully, and the other boy held up his hands in a gesture of peace, grinning widely.

"Right, what was I thinking?"

The conversation pretty much ended there as Mr. Guinness started teaching, giving a lecture on some subject that Honey vaguely recalled learning the basics of the year before. He started writing his notes, wincing internally when he realized the class seemed to be at least halfway through the topic already, Honey barely able to follow along. Chemistry really wasn't his science of choice.

The end of class came much too quickly, Honey still silently struggling to figure out what language Mr. Guinness was speaking in. Honey gathered up his stuff and made his way out of the class, not even noticing the interested eyes following him until he disappeared from the doorway.

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Honey's other two morning classes were, thankfully, less of a problem than Chemistry had been. Neither of his teachers had embarrassed him by making him introduce himself, simply handing him a packet on what he'd missed and letting him pick where he wanted to sit. In third period, M.L saved him a seat, and they spent most of the period whispering about one thing or another, M.L lending him their notes.

When the bell for lunch, their seemed to be some unspoken agreement. M.L Followed Honey to his locker, leaning against the locker beside it while he grabbed his binder for the second half of the day (because fuck what teachers said, having a separate binder for each individual subject was a damn hassle) and his lunch, and then they stopped at M.L's locker before they led him to the cafeteria. M.L gestured him toward their regular table while they waited in the lunch line.

Honey took his seat, absently unpacking his lunch. It looked delicious- chicken salad on a croissant, a container of berries, and a plastic bag with a few homemade chocolate chip cookies. Definitely better than the bag of chips he would have gotten for himself. Starting in on his berries, Honey looked around.

The lunch room wasn't incredibly big, barely large enough to accommodate the few hundred students in attendance. It was loud in only the way a room full of obnoxious teenagers could be. People were talking and yelling, and a few different groups were playing music from their crappy phone speakers. Honey spotted Conrad, seemingly holding court at his table. He had his little blonde groupie tucked under his arm, and she laughed at everything he said. Honey rolled his eyes. Of course the douchebag was one of the "popular" kids.

Moving on, Honey kept skimming the crowd, spotting a few people he vaguely recognized from his first three classes. He noticed this could seemed to follow the same tired old trend of rigid cliques that some of his smaller previous schools had- jocks with jocks, theatre kids with theatre kids, burnouts with burnout, etc. Frankly, Honey found it boring, wondering idly if he should inform the student body that they weren't living in some angsty teen movie- they could make friends outside of their tiny socially circles. Meh, more effort than it was worth.

He wasn't truly interested until he spotted the hot kid from his first period. Oddly enough, he was already looking in Honey's direction when Honey looked over, although he quickly turned away when he got caught. His tablemates, however didn't seem to have the same inclination, as they all kept staring right at him. Honey shrugged internally, starting his own scrutiny. If they were going to stare, he may as well do it too.

There were three others besides Hot Dude- two girls and one boy. The first girl was tiny and doll-like, with wildly spiky black hair and delicate yet mischievous features. Her diminutive stature and playful aura reminded Honey of the tiny fairy figurines one of his old foster mothers used to collect, although this girl wasn't nearly as creepy. The second girl looked like she belonged on a runway, or in the femme fatale in some old school spy movie. Her perfectly curled hair was a shade of blonde that Honey didn't think existed outside of a bottle, but he somehow he could tell it was natural. He bet there wasn't a straight boy or gay girl who wasn't at least half in love with her. Hell, Honey was gay, and even he thought she was absolutely stunning. The guy, who for some reason had a small amused smirk on his face reminded Honey of an ancient Greek stature, all classic features and a strange blend of masculine handsomeness and feminine beauty. His copper hair curled softly back from his face, framing his feaures nicely. Not exactly Honey's type, but he could definitely see the appeal. They all had a strange similarity to them, although Honey highly doubted they were related. They were all porcelain pale, golden eyed, and, most noticeably, unnaturally beautiful.

Honey tore his eyes way from the strange group as M.L sat down in front of him with a dramatic sigh, their tray laden with unappealing cafeteria food. "God, it's like fighting through a mob just to get some cardboard pizza and soggy tater tots."

"It's a metaphor for life- maximum effort for minimum pay-off," Honey shrugged, earning a snort of laughter from his tablemate. Honey debated for a moment whether it would be rude to gossip about the group of potentials super models, then internally shrugged and said fuck it. It's not like they'd be able to hear him from so far away anyway.

"What's the deal with those pale kids over at the other table?" Honey asked, gesturing his chin vaguely in their direction.

"Honey, I don't know if you noticed, but we're in Charlotte- _everyone_ is a weird pale kid. You're going to have to be a bit more specific." They pointed out, which, fair. He rolled his eyes before gesturing again, this time not even bothering to be subtle about it. If they were still watching him that was their problem, not his.

M.L followed along where he'd gestured, seeming uninterested until their eyes actually landed one the group, at which point they made a vague noise of understanding. For spit second, their expression morphed into one of distaste, before quickly going back to casual distate. Huh. "Oh, those are Dr. Cullen's foster kids, Emmett, Edward, Rosalie and Alice. They transferred in at the beginning of the year, just a few monhs ago. Why do you ask?"

Honey shrugged noncommittally, taking a bite out of his sandwich, chewing, and swallowing before answering (fuck you, he wasn't stalling, he was just hungry, that was all). "No real reason, I guess. I sat next to the big one in first period, and he was staring at me when I came in. Trying to figure out if I should be flattered or worried that I'm about to be hate-crimed."

M.L snorted, their aquiline nose wrinkling charmingly in laughter. "I think you're safe, love, that's Emmett. He may be a giant, but he's of the big friendly variety. Well," they tilt their head, seeming to reconsider their answer. "Friendly enough, anyway. The Cullens don't really talk to anyone outside of their little group, but Emmett isn't the bullying type."

Honey hummed, letting his eyes drift back over to the group. They had all finally turned away from him, seemingly locked in quiet conversation. The tiny brunette girl looked excited, practically bouncing in her seat as she talked. The blonde girl and redheaded boy didn't seem as enthusiastic, having looks of skepticism and disapproval on their respective faces. Emmett looked just as happy as his small foster sister, an expression on his face that reminded Honey of a hopeful puppy. Honey couldn't help but think the other boy looked kind of adorable.

M.L snapped their fingers in front of his face, effectively his attention back to them. They gave him a small apologetic smile, patting his hand gently. "Don't get your hopes up, Honey. The Cullens _really_ don't socialize outside of one another."

Honey rolled his eyes, pulling his hand back in order to pop a handful of berries in his mouth. "Believe me, I don't have any hopes. Just because I think someone might be good jerk-off material doesn't mean I'm going to fall wildly, madly in love with them or anything. Besides, I'm pretty sure he's straight anyway."

With that, their conversation moved on, oblivious to the sudden fit of laughter taking over the Cullen table.

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 _Okay so, I'm actually really happy with this chapter! It's the longest one so far, and it's gotten most of what I want to get done, done. I might have one more scene from Honey's first day involving one of the Cullens in chapter 5, or I might skip straight to the end of the day and his first meeting with his new foster dad, idk. Tell me what you'd like to see! Like I said in the above author's note, I have no clue when I'm going to be able to get another chapter out, but I'll peck away at it whenever I have a spare moment. Until next time-_

 _Read and review!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Hey babes! So, I'm the absolute worst and got caught up in work and colege nonsense and totally let my little brain baby fall to the wayside. My bad! I promise I'll make time to update at least twice a month from now on. I missed writing this sooooo much. Slight retcon- I mentioned that Honey and M.L share art class together in the last chapter, but that was a mistake- they only have third period psychology together. And also, I don't know if this came across properly, but M.L is nonbinary and uses they/them pronouns. I don't have anything else of importance to tell you guys, so here ya go!_

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The rest of the day was uneventful . It hadn't been too bad, however; math had been boring as hell, but his last two classes of the day were art and photography, both subjects that he enjoyed. He'd noticed that both of the Cullen girls shared those classes with him, the blonde supermodel in his art class and the tiny brunette fairy in his photography class. The latter had even spoken to him, approaching him before class and introducing herself as Alice with a strange, secretive smile. Honey hadn't known quite what do, simply offering up his own name and an awkward wave before she left to find her own seat. Admittedly, not his finest moment.

As Honey climbed onboard the bus after school, he decided that, all in all, it hadn't been a bad day. Sure, it could have gone better, what with that asshole Conrad who seemed to have an issue with him, but he'd managed to make a friend and avoid any fights, so it definitely could have gone worse. He was especially optimistic about meeting M.L. In all his years of moving around, he'd never clicked with someone so easily. Sure, he'd had other friends and acquaintances, but they'd mostly just been people to hang around with and bum liquor off of, not people he'd truly liked.

As if summoned by his thoughts, M.L slid into the seat beside him. already slipping their bulky black bookbag onto their lap as they let their head thump back against the vinyl seat with an exhausted groan. "God, why did they have to give me sixth period Calc this semester? It always seems to drag on forever. I swear, Mrs. Sweeney is pushing 80, and the most boring woman on the planet."

"Why on Earth would you sign up for Calculus in the first place? That just seems like a terrible life choice in and of itself," Honey pointed out, crinkling his nose up as the bus rumbled to life and began to pull away from the school.

"True," M.L conceded with a little shrug. "It's not _that_ (italics) bad, though. The subject matter is pretty easy for me, it's just the fucking teacher."

"Listen to you, smartypants," Honey teased lightly. "I absolutely hate math of all types, that's why I'm taking Finance and Workplace this semester, and then never touching it again."

"It was my compromise with my parents- I take advanced courses this year, and next year they'll let me take all the artsy courses my little heart desires," M.L explained, sounding a tiny bit bitter. Honey wasn't sure how to properly respond to that, so he simply changed the subject.

"I refuse to believe that anyone interesting could possibly have been born in this boring ass town, so where are you from?" Honey asked, turning his body a bit to face them as the bus bumped along the neglected pavement.

"You're right, I'm not from here, although I wouldn't call my hometown much more interesting. I'm from Coreysville, which is approximately 500 miles from anywhere worth being." M.L explained, shrugging one shoulder. "But my mom got a really good job offer here, so we relocated when I was about seven. I was stuck in a van with my four brothers for almost three days, it was absolute torture."

Honey honestly found it hard to believe that there was even such thing as a good job offer in a place like this, at least not one that would be worth moving such a far distance. He kept that thought to himself, though- no need to insult M.L's mother's livelihood, at least not before he'd even met her.

As if sensing him drifting off, M.L redirected the conversation. "So, how about you? Where is the mysterious new boy from?"

"First of all, I'm anti-social, not mysterious. Mysterious implies that there's something interesting for people to uncover about me, and that's the complete opposite of the reputation I want to cultivate," Honey corrected, not entirely kidding. The last thing he needed was for some busybody to start poking around in his past. "To answer you're question, though, I'm from Toronto, technically, but my parents moved us out of there when I was really young. Now I'm just from wherever."

"For someone who claims not to be be mysterious, that was some pretty mysterious ass shit you just said," M.L ribbed good naturedly, gently nudging Honey's shoulder with their own.

"Ya caught me," Honey joked, rolling his eyes. "I'm secretly an angsty teen vampire, shrouded in secrets and intrigue."

Something glinted in M.L's eyes for a brief moment, something hard and cold and unforgiving, gone so quick that Honey almost thought he'd imagined it. They covered it up with a light chuckle. "Oh darling, youre far too cute to be a bloodsucker."

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The rest of the ride went much the same, M.L and Honey chatting back and forth about nothing in particular, mostly delighting in finding someone else with a similar personality. When they reached their stop, they got off together, saying their goodbyes as M.L turned down a side street and Honey started to trek up the little hill to his newest foster home.

Huffing and puffing a little as he reached the house (god, he _really_ needed to get in shape), Honey noted that Helena's little blue sedan was missing, replaced a large black pick-up truck in the yard that hadn't been there this morning. The man of the house must be back, he mused. He trudged up the stairs onto the porch, debating knocking for a moment, before he shook his head at the notion. This was his new home, and Helena at least seemed nice. There was no way he was knocking. He opened the door, carefully taking his shoes off and putting them on the rack.

"Honey, is that you?" Helena called from the kitchen, sounding a bit harried.

"Yeah, I'm home," Honey answered back. Feeling kind of rude, yelling across the house to her, Honey set his backpack down by the foot of the stairs and padded down the hall, peeking into the kitchen. Helena was at the counter, chopping carrots. She was already surrounded by a veritable mountain of veggies, making Honey wonder which army she was planning on feeding.

"I hate to ask this of you, especially on your first day back to school, but would you mind giving me a hand? My good friend Laura asked me to help her make some easy meals for a few of the seniors around town, and it completely slipped my mind until today. Wendall is already off clearing the grocery store of all their pie crusts, god love him, or I'd ask him." Helena requested, looking genuinely regretful. God, how could anyone say no to such a kind woman, especially with a cause like that.

"Yeah sure, no sweat," Honey agreed, already on his way to the sink. he turned the tap on, squirting some soap into his hands and began to wash them. "What do you need me to do?"

"Thank you, Honey. Do you mind taking over the vegetables while I start cooking up some meat? I'm making chicken pot pies and beef stew," She explained, already putting down her knife and going to the meat she had thawing on the counter.

Not bothering to reply beyond a hum of agreement, Honey turned off the tap, drying his hands and replacing Helena by the counter, easily taking over where she'd left off. He didn't have a lot of experience in the kitchen, definitely not enough to cook himself anything more complicated than hamburgers, but he was fairly confident he could handle chopping vegetables.

They worked in companionable silence for about a half hour, Honey working through another bag and a half of carrots and almost a dozen potatoes before the front door opened, followed by the sound of heavy boots being kicked off carelessly. A deep, masculine voice called out, "Helly, they only had 12 crusts, is that going to be enough?"

"That'll have to do for now," Helena sighs, looking around at all the ingredients. "I can make a few homemade crusts, and then maybe after dinner we can make a run to Fairley, see what they've got there."

The man- Wendall, Honey presumed- came into the room, and Honey felt his breath catch in the back of his throat. He was massive, built like a brick shithouse and almost a foot taller than Honey's measly 5'6", with thick black hair and a salt and pepper beard. Heavy black eyebrows sat over dark blue eyes. All in all, he was one of the most intimidating men that Honey had ever seen in his life.

Honey couldnt help but think of the damage a even a smack from one of those big meaty hands could cause. Hell, it wouldn't be the first time a foster parent smacked him around, but normally he had an out. Act up, cause enough trouble and stay our of their grasp for long enough that getting rid of him was easier than beating his ass. That wasn't an option this time, though. He _had_ to make this situation work, no matter what. He just had to pray that this Wendall character was a gentle giant.

"...Honey?" Helena called, snapping Honey from his reverie. He looked over at his foster mother. Judging by the look on her face, that wasn't the first time she'd said his name.

"Sorry, I was distracted." Honey apologized, shaking his head a little to clear it. "Could you repeat that, please?"

"I was just asking if you'd like to come to Fairley with Wendall and I after dinner?" She asked again, not seeming annoyed at having to repeat herself. Honey barely even had to think about that, shaking his head almost immediately.

"No thanks, I actually have homework, and it's been kind of a long day..." Honey trailed off, hoping he didn't have to elaborate.

"That's fine, Honey," Wendall said, addressing Honey for the first time. he stepped forward, holding his hand out with, well, not quite a smile (Honey wasn't sure if smiling was even possible with such a gruff looking face), but a pleasant enough expression. "I'll take over helping Helly, if you wanna head upstairs and get started on your homework."

Nodding softly, Honey handed the knife over to Wendall, letting out a quiet "Thanks," before he near scurried out of the kitchen, grabbing his backpack on his way up the stairs.

He went to his bedroom, closing and locking the door behind him before flopping down on the soft bed. God, he hadn't realized it until just then, but he was exhausted. Squirming around a little, Honey managed to kick off his socks and pants and wriggle out of his top, left in nothing but his black boxer briefs. He tugged the little plastic headband out of his hair, tossing it onto the floor, before going boneless, completely worn out. His dark brown eyes began to drift closed as he let out a jaw-cracking yawn. Just a few moments of rest, and then he'd start on his homework. Just a few moments...

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"Honey, dinner's ready, are you coming down?" A voice called from the other side of the door, startling Honey out of his rest. He groaned, rolling onto his side and peering over at the clock. 7:00. Fuck, that had _definitely_ been longer than just a few minutes.

"Yeah, I'll be down in a minute," He answered around a huge yawn, grabbing his pants and wrestling back into them as he sat up. He had to hunt around for a few moments before he found her shirt amongst the crumpled shirts, shrugging it on and scratching idly at his pec as he stumbled into the ensuite bathroom to wash his hands.

Not wanting to keep Helena and Wendall waiting for too long, Honey finished quickly and left the comfort of his bedroom. Sparing a wince for his untouched school bag. He hadn't been lying about having a lot of school work to do- it sort of came with the territory of transferring in mid-semester. He shrugged to himself as he closed his door behind him, padding down the hall as he made his way toward the kitchen. He'd just have to stay up a little later than ideal and get it done after supper, no biggie.

When he entered the kitchen, Helena was at the counter, cutting up one of the meat pies, while Wendall sat at the table, clearly waiting to be fed. Honey dithered in the doorway for a moment, unsure what he was supposed to do. Did he sit down and risk looking entitled? Or did he go to help Helena and risk being considered a pest? Whhy did figuring out new foster family dynamics have to be such a _hassle_? Thankfully, before Honey could stand there looking like an idiot for _too_ long, Helena came to his rescue.

"Sit down, Honey, I'll bring you and Wendall a slice," she directed, gesturing with her knife towards the large 8-person table. Honey nodded and near-scurried over, taking the middle seat on the outward facing side of the table, not wanting to sit right next to Wnedall, but not wanting to be a dick and sit as far as possible.

"So, Honey, huh?" Wendall started, voice deep and rough with a bit of twang, like something out of an old Western movie, putting Honey at ease a little (what? One of Honey's old foster fathers had fucking loved those things, and it'd rubbed off on him.). "That's a pretty unique name."

Aaaaand there went the modicum of comfort Honey had felt with the man. He couldn't stand when people questioned his name like it was a bad thing. He shrugged one shoulder, eyes tracing patterns in the grainy wood surface. "S'a family name, I liked it so it stuck."

"Don't mind Wendall, sweetie," Helena said, approaching the table and setting a place with a slice of chicken pot pie in front of both men. "He's an awkward old man, that's just his way of trying to make conversation. Now eat up, you're too skinny."

Not needing to be told twice, Honey picked up his fork a dug dug in, knowing by now just how good of a cook Helena was. Honestly at this point, he was wondering if there was anything the woman _wasn't_ good at. Scolding puppies, maybe. His last foster mother hadn't been much for cooking, mainly preferring to order out or have something ready-made, so it was nice to eat a home-cooked meal. Honey could honestly say he'd seen enough of delivery pizza to last him the rest of his teens, at least, maybe even into his twenties.

Dinner was a mostly quiet affair, interrrupted occassionally by Helena asking Wendall how his trip was, or Wendall inquiring about Helena's newest artistic masterpiece. It wasn't until everyone was done eating that the mood shifted into something more serious. Helena turned to Honey, giving him a warm look. "So Honey, how was your first day of school? Did Rodney call you into his office? I told him not to, but that man never listens to anyone but himself."

"Rodney...?" Honey questions in confusion, before clueing in. "Oh, you mean Principal Berger? Yeah, he spoke to me. It was pretty standard stuff- they'll be watching me, I better keep myself in line, no funny business, that sort of thing.

Helena nodded, seeming to have expected that. "Yes, that sounds like Rodney. Sometimes I think he's confused on whether he runs a high school or a military base. That does lead into what Wendall and I'd like to talk to you about, though."

 _Oh, here we go._ Honey had _known_ this was coming. It always did, sooner or later. Foster families took one look at his mile-thick file and either ran for the hills or started installing bars on the windows and locks on the fridge. He's have thought they'd learn by now that the more people tried to control him, the more he rebelled, but hey- some people just weren't that smart. He relaxed a bit in his seat, preparing to zone out as Wendall began to speak.

"We want to start by saying that, as of right now, we trust you." Yeah, that sounded about- Wait, what? They _trusted_ him? What did that even _mean?_ Some of his disbelief must have showed on his face, because Wendall smiled ruefully and continued. "Whatever you've done in the past, whatever trouble has brought you to our doorstep, we don't care. Hell, I haven't even seen your file, and Helly only glanced at the relevant information. This is a clean slate for you, Honey."

Honey just sat there, blinking slightly. He couldn't quite wrap his head around a foster family who didn't care even a _little_ about his checkered past. Even the best foster families had been a little wary of him at first. Finally, he managed to speak, if only to say "Oh. Uhm, okay."

"All we ask is that you don't break our trust in you," Helena chipped in, startling Honey a bit. He hadn't expected her to contribute much, honestly. "Curfew is 11pm on school nights, and 1am on weekends, unless you let us know you're going to be out later beforehand. We don't condone drugs or alcohol in the house, and ask that you don't partake outside the house as well, but if you do, please call us to pick you up- don't get in someone's car or try to walk home. Please keep your phone on and on you when you go out, and give us a general idea of where you might be, just in case. Other than that, it's all just basic respect and common decency stuff. Do you have any questions, Honey?"

Honey shook his head, taking a few moments to digest that. Honestly, those were some of the most lax rules he's ever had. He couldn't quite tell if he wanted to jump for joy or question their sanity. In the end, he settled for a small smile. "I understand. Those should be pretty simple to folow and remember."

Wendall nodded, standing up from the table, followed quickly by Helena. "Well, Helly and I are gonna start on these dishes. You might wanna head upstairs and get a start on homework for real this time."

Blushing slightly in embarrassment, Honey nodded and stood as well, having the decency to scrape his plate into the garbage and set it by the sink before heading up to his room. He drifted outof the kitchen, climbing the stairs in a bit of a daze. Once in the sanctuary of his room, he grabbed his backpack and dragged it over to his new desk, pulling out his depressingly large stack of homework. Even as he started on a basic trig worksheet, he couldn't stop dwelling on the strangeness of his little "family meeting" with his new foster parents. He'd been trying to ignore the feeling all day, but this had solidified the feeling he was getting.

Something told him that this family, this town, wasn't going to be like anything he'd experienced before.

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 _AAAAAAAAAAH there we go babes! Chapter 5, hot off the presses. I'm not 100% satisified with it honestly, but thats the writer's curse. I do want to promise that I'm gonna do my damnedest to get a proper updating schedule up and running. I posted my (tentative) schedule on my profile, but that subject to change, depending on how busy I'm gonna be when I start school next month and go back to work._

 _Also, I've been wondering if there was anyone interested in being a beta for me? I tend to type pretty fast and have hella clumsy fingers, so I'd need someone to proofread, and spellcheck for me, as well as someone to give me a second set of eyes like plotwise, let me know when I'm contradicting myself or creating plotholes, that sort of thing. PM me if you're interested!_


	6. Chapter 6

_Hey guys! So, I am incredibly sorry for how long it took for me to get this out. I had a lot of really terrible shit going on in my life that I won't bore you with, and this fic kind of fell to the back burner. No worries though, everything is more or less fixed now so I'll be back on schedule hopefully._

 _ **Warning: this chapter contains reference to child sexual abuse and pedophilia.**_ _I won't go into detail, and it isn't against a named character, but it happens. proceed with caution, please take care of yourselves. If you'd like to skip it, stop reading at the second paragraph in the second scene, starting with '_ When he was 13, he'd stayed in a foster home with a nice man...' _and start reading at the beginning of paragraph five._

 _I don't have anything else incredibly important to say as of right now, except that I've found a beta! Shoutout to user acouvion for helping me out. Enjoy!_

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' _Little bird...'_

 _The singsong voice echoed all around me, startling me enough to stumble over nothing. Thin branches slapped against my skin, tangling in the hair and catching on my clothes. My heart felt like it was going to beat right out of my chest, and my lungs burned furiously. Still, I couldn't stop. Not after seeing what they'd done to Joanna, what they'd probably done to Aubrey, if her screams had been any indication._

 _'Oh little biiiiiird~...'_

 _I stifled a sob as I tripped for real this time, scrambling along the muddy, leaf strewn forest floor before pushing myself up again. This wasn't fair. I didn't deserve this,_ we _didn't deserve this! We were just trying to help, finding an injured, crying girl in the forest during our evening walk. We hadn't expected..._

 _'Come out, come out where ever you are...'_

 _I should have known. Something had felt wrong even as we approached her. The girl had been... Strange. Something about the way she'd held herself, blood covered and writhing in pain, rang false. Like a scorpion calling for the help of a toad. Still, I'd let my better nature override my instincts and convinced Joanna and Aubrey that we needed to help her._

 _'I can hear your heartbeat, little bird...'_

 _The moment she'd lifted her head, I'd known we had made a grave mistake. If her body language hadn't been enough, her face finally confirmed what my instincts had been screaming: this was a predator. Her skin, even covered in blood, was alabaster pale and smooth as marble, stretched over eerily perfect features. Her pouting cupid's bow mouth and quivering chin were covered in dark, dripping blood. And those eyes, oh, those eyes... By the time we'd turned to run, it already felt like too late._

 _'Enough playing with your food, Vivi'_

 _A new voice sounded from right above my head, making me shriek and rear back. A figure dropped down from the trees, falling into a crouch just a few feet from me. The thick shadows cast by the trees made it nearly impossible to make out any distinguishing features, besides the fact that person seemed tall. I tried to scramble away, but only succeeded in trapping myself against a thick tree trunk._

 _'Please, please...' I begged, huddling back against the rough bark. My whole body trembled, fingers digging into the soft mud. 'I won't say anything, please just let me go.'_

 _The figured scoffed, shaking their head ruefully. 'Really? Two of your friends were just brutally murdered in front of you, and you aren't going to say anything? And here I thought humans valued loyalty...'_

 _'You're no fun, Bunny,' The girl appeared from the trees, pouting childishly at the woman (for, despite her deep voice and shadowed figure, I was fairly certain that the other person was a woman). Fresh blood stained the front of her blue t-shirt, and I shuddered, trying (and failing) not to think of who's it must be. 'Besides, she isn't food. I got a little carried away with the bigger one, so she's going to have to be our newest recruit.'_

 _'The Ringmaster isn't going to be happy about this,' The older woman pointed out, sounding a annoyed. What were these people even talking about? Recruits, Ringmasters? If I hadn't been so busy shaking in terror, I'd be scratching my head in confusion. 'She's tiny, she won't even last a week, and that's_ if _the bite doesn't kill her first."_

 _'My brother will get over it,' The girl said, rolling her eyes. Then, as if remembering I was there, she turned to be, bearing her crimson-dyed teeth at me in a trrible parody of a smile. 'You're stronger than you look, aren't you, little bird? Bunny's just mad because you're going to be her replacement. Now stay still, this will only hurt a bit~"_

 _Before I could even think to move away, she was in front of me, grabbing me in an inhumanly strong grip and wrenching my head to the side. there were two simultaneous needle-sharp pricks in my neck, and then pain like I'd never felt was coursing through my veins. All I could do was open my mouth and scream, and scream, and_ _ **scream**_ _..._

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Honey startled awake, the beginnings of a scream dying on his lips. His hand flew instinctively to his neck, looking for an injury that wasn't there, even as the last echoes of agony dissapated from his body. He groaned, resisting the overwhelming urge to punch his pillow. It'd been years since he'd had a dream like that, one that felt so _real,_ as if he was truly there, experiencing it himself. One that he knew in his heart _had_ happened to somebody else. He used to think it was cool when he was younger, like peeking into another person's life, but then, well...

When he was 11, he'd stayed in a home with a really nice foster dad named Isaac. He hadn't been very old, only in his mid-thirties, but he was already a widower, his wife dying of ovarian cancer just few years after they'd gotten married. Apparently she had really wanted children, but they hadn't had a chance to. So, he'd decided to start fostering kids after she passed. He was one of the only foster dads Honey had ever gotten close to, eventually even feeling comfortable enough to hug and cuddle with the man. Hell, there'd even been talk of Isaac adopting him.

There'd been an older girl named Rosie, probably 15 or 16, living there too. She was quiet, shy Honey had thought. She never really socialized with Honey, and she didn't seem to like Isaac. Honey had written her off as another moody teenager, definitely not the first he'd encountered in his years in the system. He'd been content to think that, too, until he fell asleep one night, and he... Saw. Saw what Isaac did late at night when no one was awake, saw exactly why Rosie flinched every time Isaac ruffled her hair or patted her back, finally understood the strange, sympathetic looks she shot him every time Isaac touched _him._

He woke up with the taste of cigarettes in his mouth, unable to stop himself from wretching into his bedside garbage can. When he'd gone to his social worker the next morning, telling her that his foster father had gotten a little _too_ tactile with him, he hadn't even been lying, really. It may not have truly been his body, but he could still feel the man's filthy touch on him. It had probably helped his story that he could tell her about the birthmark on the inside of Isaac's thigh. The last he'd seen of Rosie, she was shaking on the porch of their foster home, waiting for her social worker to collect her after Isaac's arrest.

Ever since then, Honey had dreaded the reoccurence of another dream like that, sometimes staying awake for days at a time to avoid them. When he'd gotten older, he'd started self medicating a bit, drinking and getting high when the fear got too bad. And so far, he'd been pretty lucky. But this? This just made no sense. Already, the dream was getting fuzzy at the edges, but he the things he _could_ recall were impossible. Teenage girls with super strength who killed people with their bare hands (or teeth, as it were)? It was crazy. Oddly enough, however, that wasn't Honey's biggest concern. No, what was really bugging him was the second woman. She felt familiar, something about her silhouette ringing a bell in the back of his mind, and he _swore_ he'd heard that voice before. It was on the tip of his tongue, teasing the edges of his brain but dissapating like smoke when he tried to grasp for it. It was fucking infuriating.

Before he could spiral too far, his thoughts were cut off by the incessant beep of his phone alarm going off, letting him know it was time to get up. He groaned, scrubbing at his face and rolling out of bed reluctantly. Fuck, after a dream like that, he felt like he hadn't slept a wink. It was _not_ shaping up to be a good day.

It only took about ten minutes for him to get ready, taking a quick cold shower to wake himself up before getting dressed in the first clothes he found that vaguely matched. Now that his first day was over, he didn't give a damn about making an impression, good or otherwise. He gathered all his school work off his desk and into his backpack, then stumbled downstair and into the kitchen, eyeing the clock. Ten more minutes before he needed to leave to catch the bus. Wendall and Helena were already at the table, a third plate of waffles sitting at his seat.

"Good morning," He greeted politely, not wasting any time as he slid into his seat and began eating. He felt like he'd been running through a forest all night, he was fucking _starved_.

"Hey Honey, did you sleep alright? " Wendall asked, looking up from the sudoku puzzle he was solving between bites of waffle.

Honey shrugged uncomfortably, shoving another bite in his his mouth to stall for a few moments. When he swallowed, he gave quick smile, although it probably looked more like a grimace than anything. "Yeah, I slept fine. Could have used a bit more, though."

Helena chuckled, shaking her head fondly. "Teenagers, I swear you'd all spend 20 hours a day sleeping if you could get away with it."

"Come on now, Helly," Wendall reprimanded playfully, winking at Honey in a conspiratorial manner. "Honey's a growing boy, he needs his rest."

Honey felt some of the tension bleed out of him, feeling more at ease as the dream slowly moved to the back of his mind. "Yeah, I need all the help I can get in the growing department- I'm pretty sure I've seen elementary school students who are talller than me."

After that, Honey felt better, working through his breakfast and having just enough time to rinse his plate and put it in the dishwasher before he had to head out. He called a goodbye to his foster parents, hearing it echoed back to him before he headed out the door.

As soon as Honey walked outside, he felt like something was off. The back of his neck prickled uncomfortably, and he had the strangest feeling, like there were eyes on him. He looked around, scanning the nearby houses, but there was no one outside, and none of the curtains were out of place. His eyes were drawn to the woods, but no matter how hard he squinted, he couldn't make anything out through the thick shadows. He shivered, reminded of that night's disturbing dream. His shoulders hunched in a subconcious gestured of self-protection as he hurried down the porch steps.

The feeling of eyes on him followed him all the way down the hill to his bus stop, and then abruptly faded as he approached M.L. The other teen was leaning against the post box, dressed in camo print cargo pants and a form fitting black turtleneck. They looked up, smiling at him. "Hey stranger. Good to see you didn't run off in the middle of the night, It'd be a shame to lose the first interesting person to show up here."

"I thought about it," Honey admitted jokingly, coming to a stop beside them. "Unfortunately, the last bus out of town had already left by the time I'd come to a decision."

"Jokes on you- there aren't any busses that come through Charlotte," M.L pointed out with a grin.

"Damn, that's a drag. Guess I'd just have to leg it," Honey leaned against the post box as well, crossing his arms over his chest to fight off the early morning chill. "So how was your night last night?"

M.L rolled their eyes, groaning dramatically. "Ugh, the usual. My little cousins were over and absolutely would _not_ stop screaming. My mother has the patience of a saint and even she was at the end of her rope. I swear, Tashi lets her kids get away with murder."

"Oh, so you have family here?" Honey asked, tilting his head. "That's lucky, moving so far from your hometown."

"Huh?" M.L gave him a confused look, before clueing. "Oh no, Tashi and her brats aren't really related to us, she's just a family friend. Half my extended 'family' is like that, you know how it is. Everyone's an aunt or uncle or whatever."

Honey nodded vaguely, but in truth, he couldn't really relate. His parents hadn't been a factor in his life for a _very_ long time, and if they'd had friends close enough to be considered family, they hadn't been around in Honey's life. Hell, Honey was pretty sure he didn't have any blood related aunts or uncles, either, and if he remembered correctly, his grandparents had died before he was even born. The only family Honey could truly rememer having was his sister, and well... Well. These days, he was pretty much a family of one.

A slightly awkward descended, broken only by the arrival of the bus. the pair climbed aboard together, Honey sliding into a bench near the middle of the bus and M.L sat beside him. Angling their body toward him, they restarted the conversation. "So how was _your_ night? Better than mine, I assume."

"Yeah, it was fine," Honey said with a slight shrug. "I helped Helena with some good samaritan project she was working on, and her husband Wendall came home so I got to meet him."

"Helena and Wendall Green?" M.L clarified, looking a bit surprised. "So like, are you a foster kid then?"

Honey stiffened, posture defensive. _Damn it._ He wasn't trying to hide it, per se, but he didn't exactly advertise the fact that he was in foster care. It wasn't shame that kept his mouth shut, but rather self preservation- kids could be assholes, and there was no need to provide people with more ammunition when his general existence was usually more than enough to make him a target anyway. Well, no use denying it now.

"Yeah, I am," Honey tried to keep his tone neutral, but a hint of steel shone through despite his best efforts. "Does that matter to you?"

"No, not really," M.L said, raising their hands in surrender. "I mean, not any more than it would to know if someone only had one parent, or if their parents were gay or whatever. I don't want to accidentally refer to your mom or dad and look like an idiot."

Honey relaxed at that, relieved. He hadn't truly expected M.L to turn away from him over something so petty, but it's not like it would be the first time someone had failed to meet his expectations. "Yeah, no, no parents. Or at least, none in my life. I think my father is still alive somewhere out there, but I try not to dwell on that unfortunate reality."

"Fair enough," M.L shrugged. "My mom and my bio dad divorced when I was like a toddler, and he's been out of the picture ever since. Good riddance, honestly. I don't remember much of him, but from what I hear from my older brothers, he wasn't exactly winning any father of the year awards. My step dad is pretty great, though."

"Another member of the shitty biological father club, high five," Honey joked, raising his hand. M.L rolled their eyes, but obliged, smacking their palm against his.

"It's not like that's exactly an exclusive club. It'd be easier to start a club for people for people with _good_ fathers." They pointed out. Honey just shrugged, a silent 'fair enough.'

The bus came to a stop outside the school, and the pair slid into the aisle, staying quiet as they shuffled toward the front door. Once they climbed off, they made their way toward the front door, seeming to mutually agree that it was far too cold to stay outdoors, unlike the rest of the heathens crowding the lawn. As they passed the front office, Honey turned to M.L.

"Okay, so I have to know- is Principal Berger _always_ an insufferable prick, or does he just hate me specifically?" Honey asked, following his friend as they led the way to their locker.

"Nah, he's always like that," M.L assured him. "He's only ever pleasant toward the athletes and kids with money. It also probably doesn't help that you're an outsider."

" _Outsider?_ " Honey scoffed with a shake of his head. "That sounds like something out of a bad supernatural YA novel."

M.L shrugged, stopping in front of their locker and twisting their combination lock. "Yeah, this whole town is a little bit ridiculous. I swear, half the town is probably inbred, with how particular they are about right 'right; and 'wrong' types."

"Let me guess- if your family hasn't been here since the town was founded, you're the 'wrong' type?" Honey said, leaning against the adjacent locker as M.L gathered their things.

"Pretty much, yeah," They nodded, slamming their locker shut and locking it again. "Being white and straight probably helps. So and I probably aren't going to win any popularity contests. Sorry about that."

Honey rolled his eyes. "The day I start to craving fitting in with these troglodytes is the day I blow my brains out."

"That's the spirit! Death over conformity!" M.L raised a fist into the air, striking a powerful pose. Honey giggled, taking M.L's hand and beginning to tug them down the hall. _Huh_ , he thought absently, _they run really warm_. He'd have to keep that in mind for future reference- maybe he could con them into handing over their coat if he ever forgot his.

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Before long, M.L and Honey reached homeroom, settling down at their desk pod. The announcements started, cutting off the conversation between them as they at least pretended to listen. The group of girls in front of them had no such qualms, chatting back and forth in voices they obviously thought were quiet and conspiratorial. Honey was content to ignore them at first, until something caught his attention.

"Did you hear about those girls up in Timberlea?" a tall blonde girl with over drawn eyebrows whispers loudly, leaning in closer to her friends.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that Aubrey girl is Suzanna Wynott's cousin," another girl pipes up. "It's so sad, right? Apparently they were just out for a walk and got attacked by something."

"My mom said it was probably devil worshippers that killed them," The smallest girl, a little redhead, said, fiddling with her tiny cross pendant.

The tall blonde rolls her eyes. "Your mother blames everything on devil worshippers. It was probably just a bear or something."

"A bear that drains somone's blood?" the religious girl shakes her head. "Doesn't seem likely. Mama's so upset she's talking about moving us away."

"That's crazy, it happened like six hours away from here. I just hope that Robin girl is okay- they didn't find her body."

Honey felt his heart stutter in his chest, tuning out the rest of what the girls had to say. Drained of blood? There was no way. His dream couldn't have been real, not this one. It made absolutely zero sense. But all the evidece said it _was_ real. This was fucking crazy. He had to check this out for himself, see if i was real or just a fluke. Serruptiously, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, typing 'Timberlea girls found dead' into the search bar.

Immediately he found what he was looking for. The first result was a link to an article from just a few hours before. His stomach sank further and further as her read, worst fear confirmed. Two girls, Aubrey Johnson and Joanna Ducard, were found dead, mauled by an unknown animal. The third girl, their friend Robin Hills, was missing, presumed dead. There were photos of each girl in the article, showing them happy and healthy and alive, but Honey couldn't block out the flashes of Joanna's terrified face or Aubrey's horrible screams from his dream the night before.

"Honey? Are you okay?" M.L whispered, jarring him out of his reverie. He blinked rapidly, swallowing the lump that threatened to form in hs throat.

"Yeah, I'm fine, perfect really, why do you ask?" Honey tried for calm and collected, but in came out more frazzled and frantic.

"Well, you've been staring into space for the past five minutes with a shellshocked look on your face. You're kind of worrying me." M.L bit their lip, eyes flicking down to his phone screen, which was still open on that damned article. "Whatever beast killed those girls, I'm sure it'll be put down soon."

Honey nodded vaguely, slipping his phone back into his pocket. He wanted to believe that, really, he did. But he couldn't stop seeing that strange, monstrous girl in his mind, remembering how fast and strong she'd been. He couldn't imagine that there was anything big or bad enough to take something like that down.

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 _Okay! So, I'm not really sure how I feel about this chapter, but its been festering for A While and it was time to get it into the world. I hope you guys like it, please read and review!_


	7. Chapter 7

_Hi guys! So like, super sorry for how long I've been gone. I don't have much of an excuse, besides the fact that college is kicking my ass. Good news is that I've got a general outline of most the rest of the story, which is great. I'm hoping I can start updating frequently again, but like… no promises._

 _Important note: I've decided to change the turned ages some of the Cullens for my own benefits. Carlisle and Esme were turned in their mid-thirties, and Emmett was turned at 18, mostly because I can, but also because it works better and makes more sense. Also apparently Emmett is 6'5 in the books? Thats buckwild and also definitely canon in this fanfiction, because tall men are hot as hell._

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Honey slunk into his first period class a few minutes early, breathing a small internal sigh of relief when Mr. Guiness let him pass by his desk without comment. Apparently the man had gotten his fill of unintentionally humiliating the new kid for one semester. Looking around, he noticed there were only a handful of students already in the classroom, including his (incredibly hot) seatmate, Emmett. The hulking boy was staring at him, not even making an effort to hide his blatant scrutiny. His expression didn't seem judging, however. It looked excited, appreciative, strangely intense. Honey didn't know whether to be flattered or unnerved. A mix of both, probably.

It wasn't until someone not-so-subtly cleared their throat behind him that Honey realized he was standing in the doorway like some sort of idiot. Face hot, he hurried to his desk, letting his heavy binders and textbooks land on the table before turning to look at Emmett, who _still_ hadn't stopped staring at him. Yeah, at this point he was definitely tipping toward the unnerved side of the scale.

"You know, only stalkers and serial killers stare like that," Honey said, raising one eyebrow. He wasn't going to let it go without a comment, no matter how hot the guy was.

Emmett grinned, showing off a row of straight white teeth. Honey tried not to get distracted by the endearing boyish dimple that formed on his left cheek, and was only partially successful. "Sorry, didn't mean to creep you out. I was just wondering when angels started taking chemistry classes, that's all."

Honey couldn't help the laugh that spilled from his mouth, caught off guard by the open and shamelessly cheesy flirting. He shook his head in disbelief. "Has that line ever worked for you?"

"That was my first time trying it out," Emmett admitted with a sheepish grin.

"Mm, I can see that. No need for pick up lines with a face like that, huh?" Honey teased lightly.

"Something like that," He answered vaguely, looking unbearably amused about something. "You should let me take you out sometime, help me brush up on my flirting skills."

Honey tilted his head in mock contemplation. "Huh, that was a little smoother. I'd give you a C minus. A little more work, and I'll consider taking you up on that offer."

He probably shouldn't have encouraged it, especially with his commitment to keeping a low profile, but he couldn't help himself. He was flirty by nature, and being hit on by someone so obviously out of his league was doing great things for his ego. It wouldn't get any more serious than harmless flirting, so who cared, really? He'd take what little entertainment he could get.

The bell rung, effectively ending their conversation. Mr. Guiness immediately launched into a continuation of yesterday's lecture, and Honey did his best to copy everything down, despite the fact that he understood about 20% of what was coming out of the man's mouth. If he was being honest, even that was probably a pretty generous estimate. Honey wished he could go back in time and strangle his younger self for skipping class so often. He spent the entire period forcing his mind not to wander off or his eyes to glaze over. Thankfully, the lecture wrapped up within twenty minutes, leaving the rest of class time for tackling the practice questions from the textbook. Honey opened up his textbook, figuring he may as well _look_ like he was making an effort, but was quickly distracted by Emmett once again.

"So, you said you're from Kingston? What brought your family out this way? Not to be rude, but this town doesn't really attract new people."

Honey raised an eyebrow at him, turning his attention to the other boy. "I could say the same about you. You and your family only transferred in a few months earlier than me, from what I've heard."

"Been asking around about me? And here I thought you were completely resistant to my charms." Emmett flashed a grin, showing off those adorable dimples again. Honey refused to back down out of embarrassment, however.

"Who said I was charmed?" He asked challengingly. " I was just curious about the weird guy who hasn't stopped staring at me. Also, don't think I missed you completely avoiding that question."

"The weather."

Honey furrowed his eyebrows. "What?"

"The weather is what attracted us here, of course," Emmett reiterated, and Honey snorted incredulously.

"Of course, I don't know how I could have missed that. who _doesn't_ want to live in a cold, rainy failed tourist trap town. Silly me." Honey picked up his pencil, about to go back to his work, but Emmett reached out and snagged his fingers in Honey's sleeve.

"I was just kidding around, don't be like that. Our dad got a good job offer at the county hospital, so here we are." His expression was sincere and apologetic, making it impossible for Honey to hold onto his annoyance. Still, he gently extricated his sleeve from Emmett's grip, twirling the pencil between his slim fingers.

"So your dad is a doctor?" Honey asked, doodling on his sheet of loose leaf to give Mr. Guinness the impression that he was at least attempting to work. He vaguely remembered M.L referring to the Cullen patriarch as such, but he hadn't put much thought into it.

Emmett nodded, picking up his pencil and beginning to write quickly, hand nearly flying across his paper. Curiously, it looked like he was actually answering the questions, although Honey had no clue whether the answers were actually correct. He doubted it, however; Emmett had barely even glanced at his textbook. "Yeah, he's a surgeon for the most part, but he hospital is so understaffed that he ends up having to do other stuff too."

Honey nodded, vaguely interested. He had entertained fantasies of being a doctor for a while, before eventually confronting the reality of how expensive and time consuming that particular career path was. Besides, he had never been much for blood. Not quite ready for the conversation to end, Honey fished around for a new topic.

"So, is there anything to do out here? It seems so quiet, I think I'll go crazy from boredom," Honey said, propping his hand on his chin as he started to draw small flowers along the borders of his paper.

"I wouldn't really know, my family and I tend to stick to ourselves. But there's plenty of outdoorsy activities, if you're into that." Emmett laughed when he saw Honey scrunch up his nose in distaste. "Come on, don't be such a city kid. There's nothing wrong with getting a little mud on your boots."

"It's not the mud I need the worry about. Excuse me if getting lost in the woods and potentially getting mauled by a bear isn't exactly my idea of a good time." Honey defended himself, although his expression was amused rather than annoyed.

"There aren't any bears out this way," Emmett refuted, although his expression looked regretful for a moment, as if a lack of dangerous predators was something to be disappointed over. So weird.

That reminded Honey of his earlier distress, however. "Yeah? Then what do _you_ think killed those girls a few towns over? It sure as hell wasn't a deer."

Emmett's expression flickered briefly before going blank, not giving Honey enough time to identify the emotion on his face. "Uh, probably coyotes or something. They're pretty common around here."

"See? That's even worse than bears!" Honey pointed out, deciding to let the topic of the girls go for now. He knew that whatever tore them apart wasn't a mere animal, but he could sense that the topic made Emmett uncomfortable. Maybe he'd known them somehow? Unlikely, but not impossible. "I'm fine with sticking to civilization, thanks."

"You could always go on a hike with me, I'd keep you safe from any big bad predators." His face split out in a flirty and cocky grin that Honey found strangely endearing. He pulled out another sheet of loose leaf, nudging the first one out of the way until it was mostly sitting on Honey's desk. He wasn't particularly bothered by that, so he decided to let it stay.

"Oh, I don't doubt that," Honey assured him, letting his eyes flicker over the boy's form in playful appreciation. It wasn't a lie, anyway. Emmett was nearly a foot taller and twice as wide as him, he was sure the boy would have no trouble fending off a pack of coyotes, if it came to that. "Still, I'd hate to risk your pretty face. It's all you've got going for you."

"You wound me," Emmett said, placing a hand over his heart dramatically and throwing his head back. Honey took the moment to appreciate the way his shirt pulled across his chest, outlining the sculpted muscles of his torso. "How will I ever recover?"

"I'm sure you'll find a way to carry on," Honey rolled his eyes, although he had to bite his lip gently to keep from laughing aloud. He couldn't help it; the boy was charming. A little meaningless flirting couldn't hurt anything, surely.

Before Emmett could come up with a response, a shadow fell over their desks, Honey looked up, stomach going cold and hard when he saw Mr. Guinness standing over them.

"How are you coming along?" The man asked, giving them both a gently chiding expression. Clearly they hadn't been as discreet as Honey hoped. Looking around briefly, he was relieved that none of the students seemed to be paying them any mind. Honey opened his mouth to mutter some excuse, keenly aware of his answer-less paper, but Emmett beat him to it.

"We're doing great, sir," He answered, flashing Mr. Guinness a perfectly polite and respectful smile. "Honey is done, and I'll be finished in a moment too."

Confused, Honey looked down. Sure enough, the sheet that Emmett had nudged toward him had the name 'Honey Hart' scrawled across the top in a passable approximation of his handwriting. He quickly wiped any signs of surprise off his face, looking up at the teacher and giving a quick nod of confirmation.

"Sorry if we were being disruptive, we'll try to keep it down," Honey said, trying to imitate Emmett's innocent expression. He doubted it was quite as believable, but Mr. Guinness seemed to buy it. The man gave a quick nod before moving on.

As soon as Mr. Guinness was occupied with another student across the classroom, Honey turned to Emmett with raised eyebrows. "How did you do that?"

"Do what?" Emmett asked with another expression of innocence. This wasn't nearly as believable as the last.

'Don't bullshit me," Honey shoved at Emmett's shoulder, unsurprised when the boy didn't so much as sway. "Although I guess the better question would be _why_ did you do that?"

Emmett shrugged, finishing up the last of the work on his paper before gently setting his pencil down. "I noticed you were struggling yesterday, and figured it wasn't fair of the teachers to throw you headfirst into the topic without any prior knowledge. So this is me buying you time to catch up with the class."

Honey narrowed his eyes in suspicion. As fun as flirting with Emmett was, this was a bit too much for him. He didn't trust the boy's motives, too used to people using underhanded motive to get at him. No one did anything out of the kindness of their heart, so clearly he was angling for something. Whether is was to humiliate him, get into his pants, or some combination of the two, Honey had no clue.

"Try the again, with less bullshit this time," Honey's voice was steely, all hints of his early playfulness completely dried up. Emmett raises his hands palms out, shaking his head.

"I'm not bullshitting you. Admittedly, there is a selfish element to it. I like talking to you, and it's not like this stuff is hard for me."

Honey paused, raising an eyebrow. "So you're telling me that you copied out your work for me so we could chat?"

Emmett nodded, expression so sincere that Honey couldn't bring himself to hold on to his suspicion. It was probably stupid, but Honey decided to take him at his word, just this once. Hopefully it wouldn't end up blowing up in his face, although that outcome would hardly be surprising. Turning to face to boy more fully, he restarted the conversation.

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 _Alright, so kind of short, but I wanted to dedicate a whole chapter just to Emmett and Honey chatting. I'm not entirely happy with it, but you've all waited long enough. Tell me what you think! Yell at me for taking forever! Whatever you want, just give me those sweet, sweet reviews. Until next time!_


	8. Chapter 8

_Hey guys! I thought I'd get a head start on writing this new chapter, so hopefully I'll have it out before another four months pass. Also I love hearing from you guys and seeing what tickles your fancy, so feel free to message me or drop a review if you have questions/comments/etc!_

 _Minor note while I have you all here: M.L is not a boy. M.L is not a girl. I use they/them pronouns consistently with M.L, because they are nonbinary. Just wanted to make that perfectly clear._

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On the walk from Chemistry to English, Honey had to actively work to hold back a dopey grin. It was silly, but he couldn't deny that he had enjoyed chatting with Emmett. Honestly, he was surprised by just how much fun he'd had. Don't get it wrong, he definitely found Emmett attractive and charming, he just wasn't the type of guy Honey would normally go after. He usually went for artsy guys or burn outs, boys who weren't so well built or outgoing. Admittedly, that was because those were the sort of people he hung around most of the time, and who tended to show interest in him. Attractive, athletic-type boys didn't tend to play for the 'home' team, and when they did, well… Honey didn't really trust their motivations to be anything other than getting bragging rights to fooling around with a 'boy like him'.

The thought sobered him a little. While Honey didn't think Emmett was angling for something along those lines, he still felt that he should proceed with caution, and not let things go any farther than a bit of harmless flirting. He didn't need the hassle or heartache of getting close to someone in that way right now, not when he didn't plan on sticking around for any great length of time. After he walked across the stage at graduation, he planned to keep right on walking until he crossed out of the county, at least.

Firmly putting the topic to rest, Honey spend the next two periods doing his best to catch up to his peers. He found that it wasn't that hard, at least with the subjects at hand. In English they were currently reading some pretentious 'classic' written by some dead white guy who's name Honey couldn't be bothered to remember. Although he found the topic mind-numbingly boring, it wasn't hard to follow along. The book was mercifully thin, so he would hopefully manage to work his way through it quickly. While psychology was a bit more of a challenge, the notes that M.L had lent him made it much easier to catch up. By the time lunch rolled around again, he could feel the edges of a headache starting to build behind his eyes. But hey, at least he was making headway. It could have been worse, all things considered.

He and M.L made their way to their lockers together, going to M.L's first, and than Honey's, chatting casually all the way. M.L spent most of the time grouching about their second period teacher assigning a massive paper. Honey sympathized strongly. He hadn't actually written his own essays since middle school, and he had a feeling that it was going to be an exercise in torture now that he actually had to do his own major assignments. Oh well, that was the consequence of trying to walk the straight and narrow.

As they reached the cafeteria and sat down at one of the mostly empty tables, he found his eyes automatically searching for Emmett. Honey frowned to himself when he noticed that both the tall boy and the rest of his strange clan of pale pseudo-models were absent. M.L noticed him looking and rolled their eyes goodnaturedly.

"Still holding out hope for that one, huh?" M.L asked, tone lightly teasing. They had brought lunch from home today, a bag of chips and leftover stir fry. "Don't trust my word that they're a bunch of recluses?"

Honey shook his head, turning his eyes back to his new friend and working on opening his lunch box. Helena had packed him a slice of leftover pot pie, cut up fruit and veggies, and a bottle of juice. He should probably be embarrassed that his foster mother was packing his lunches for him, but he couldn't bring himself to be anything but grateful. It wasn't like he was going to pack it himself, and it beat cafeteria food, or going hungry.

"I'm not _holding out_ for anyone," He protested, picking up his fork and stabbing a piece of strawberry before popping it into his mouth. "I talked to him this morning, plus he was staring at me all lunch yesterday. Just trying to make sure I don't have a stalker, y'know?"

"He talked to you? Really?" M.L asked, frowning. "What did he talk to you about?"

Honey shrugged, taking a long moment to chew his food before he gave an answer. "Nothing major. We talked about his family a little, he tried to convince me that outdoorsy activities are worthwhile, a mild amount of flirting. You know, normal shit."

He decided to leave out the part where Emmett let basically him cheat off his work. While he doubted that M.L was the type to snitch, he didn't want to risk being wrong and end up in shit before his second day was even out. Besides, it wasn't that big of a deal. The assignment hadn't even been for points.

M.L's amber eyes went wide, expression looking both concerned and vaguely disturbed. Their fingers tightened on their fork almost unnoticeably. " _Flirting_? Seriously? It's even worse than I thought."

"Okay, what's the deal? You seem to really hate the Cullens and I'm starting to wonder why," Honey asked. At first he had figured it was just general dislike of anyone rich and attractive, which was something he got. He wouldn't pretend he had never reached that level of petty. Not though, it didn't seem that simple. There was too much seriousness in M.L's eyes. "Did one of them like, spit in your lunch or something?"

"My family isn't a big fan of them, and vice versa." M.L explained, and yeah, there was definitely something personal going on here, if the slight tick in M.L's jaw was anything to go on.

"Seriously? Didn't the Cullens just move here recently? What kind of family feud could you have possibly gotten into that quickly?" Honey demanded incredulously. Part of him felt frustrated at the situation, but mostly he was just confused and desperately curious. While he didn't have any interest in drama of his own, _other people's_ drama was always fun. Maybe there was some juicy gossip to be learned here.

Their proud nose scrunched up, as if smelling something unpleasant. "Doesn't take long to make a bad impression."

Honey let out a sigh, slender brown fingers carding through his short black curls. "Listen, if it really means that much to you, I won't talk to Emmett anymore. I don't want to make you uncomfortable by hanging around someone you clearly don't like."

M.L was silent for several long moments, seeming to consider his words. For a second, Honey was sure they were going to accept his offer. Which, while not ideal, wouldn't be the end of the world. Sure, Emmett was ridiculously hot, and he did feel weirdly drawn to the other boy, but 'bros before hoes,' or whatever.

"No, I'm not going to make you choose between the two of us, you're allowed to have friends outside of me," M.L said after a while, shaking their head and causing a bit of hair to fall into their eyes, which they quickly tucked behind their ear. "Just be careful, okay? The Cullens aren't what they appear to be. They're dangerous."

"Trust me, I'm not planning on getting overly involved," Honey promised, starting in on his pie. "I need the next few years to be as uncomplicated as humanly possible. Can't afford the drama that a relationship would bring."

M/L nodded, looking slightly appeased by that. "Fair enough, I guess. On a completely different note, do you want to hang out this weekend so I can help catch you up in your classes a bit more?"

Honey groaned, letting his head fall back dramatically. "School work on the weekend? That has to be some sort of crime."

"I hate to tell you this, but most people do school work on the weekends," M.L informed him, a small amused smirk sliding across their lips. "I promise I'll provide snacks and give you lots of breaks, since apparently you're a small child."

"Good. I respond well to juice boxes and fruit gummies." Honey said, finishing his lunch and putting his containers back in his lunch bag.

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The last three periods flew by, with Honey absently noting that neither Alice nor Rosalie were present in the classes he shared with them. Maybe there was an emergency at home? Who knew. It wasn't really his business, but he couldn't help but wonder. The thought stayed in his mind all afternoon, even as he rode the bus home, sharing funny stories with M.L about some of the schools he'd been to. I was ridiculous, and probably way off base, but Honey couldn't get rid of the tiny voice in the back of his head that kept telling him that it had something to do with him. It made no rational sense that all the Cullen siblings would magically be absent from class just because he'd had a chat with one of them. Try telling that to his dumb brain, though.

By the time he made it up onto the Greene's front porch, he was already in a shitty mood, both from the annoying thoughts swirling around in his head, and from the damp cold that had settled into the town while he'd been in school. God, he wished he knew how to drive and had the money for a car. Having to wait around for the school bus in this weather had been absolute torture. As he reached the front door, he saw a little envelope stuck to it, his name written across it in neat, looping cursive. He pulled the envelope down curiously, and felt it had a little weight to it. Not much, but obviously not just paper. Only one way to find out what was inside, though. He opened the flap, finding a small note and a key attached to a bumblebee keychain inside. He found himself smiling slightly as he pulled the two items out, reading the short message.

' _Honey, if this note is still here, I obviously lost track of time while shopping in the city. I realized today that I completely forgot to give you a house key. This is yours for as long as you live here. By the way -Helena'_

Wow. Honey could count on one hand the amount of times a foster family had trusted him with his own personal key to the house, and still have fingers to spare. There had been many times over the years when he had found himself locked out because his foster parents weren't home. He usually either found a way in through an unlocked window or something. On one memorable occasion when he was 13, he had ended locked out of the house for days when his foster parents had decided to take a week long trip without telling him. After day three of sleeping on the back deck, stealing food from Wal-Mart, and cleaning himself with a garden hose, he had eventually gotten fed up and broken in by shattering the sliding glass door with a rock. Of course, that had set off an alarm, and the police had shown up. A black kid breaking into some upper-middle class white couple's home while they were away hadn't _exactly_ been a good look. Needless to say, it wasn't long after they returned from their vacation that the couple sent Honey packing. Not that he had complained, of course.

Shaking himself from his quick walk down memory lane, Honey stuffed the note in his jacket pocket and unlocked the front door. He kicked his shoes off, straightening them a bit on the mat before closing and locking the door behind himself. The neighborhood might have been quiet and calm, but that didn;t necessarily mean it was safe, and Honey wasn't taking his chances. That down, he went up to his room, closing and locking his own door. A nice steaming hot shower was just what he needed to warm himself up after the chill of the outdoors.

Stripping out of his clothes along the way, Honey padded into the bathroom, curling his toes against the cool tile as he threw his discarded clothes in his laundry hamper. He cranked the shower on to as hot as he could stand without feeling like he was getting stabbed by a bunch of tiny pins. Laying out a nice fluffy towel on his toilet seat, Honey stepped into the shower stall. The water felt amazing. He didn't think he'd ever get over just how good the water pressure was here. Immediately, he could feel the chill and stiffness seep out of him, leaving him lose and warm feeling. Honey didn't bother deep cleaning himself, just giving his body a cursory rinse since he'd showered that morning as well. Once he felt he'd wasted enough time and hot water, Honey turned the water off, wiping away the water that dripped from his hair into his eyes.

Water slid down his firm calves and onto the soft, absorbent mat as he stepped out of the shower. He roughly toweled himself dry, tying the towel around his waist once he was done and going back into his bedroom. Without bothering to glance at his school work, Honey heading straight to his bed dropping the towel and climbing between the sheets, determined to stay nice and warm at any cost. Responsibilities could wait- it was nap time now.

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 _Just in case you guys couldn't tell, I always write the top author's note before I start writing a chapter, and the bottom one once I'm done. I have to say… I really fucked this one up. In my defense, fanfiction is a hobby and real life takes priority. Also, I'm not a fan of how... Choppy/fragmented all the chapters feel, so I think once I have some written ahead, I might start editing and combine some of the chapters_


	9. Chapter 9

_Oof… Y'all, it's been a hot minute, huh? Sorry about that. Quite frankly, I've just been avoiding turning my laptop on. Its been a long summer, but I'm coming up on the end of my course, so hopefully when I'm done I'll be less exhausted and more likely to try to write. We'll see, I guess. In my defence, I've been thinking about this series a lot! I've just mainly been dwelling on the future sequels and making an in-depth playlist… Oops. I might drop the playlist one of these days, as an apology for my months-long gaps between posting._

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Honey woke up with a start, eyes flying open to stare up at his ceiling. Already, the details of his dream were beginning to fade away, but his nerves seemed to throb with the memory of searing, heart-stopping agony. Overheard, he could hear the heavy patter of heavy rain against the roof, and the world outside his window was dark. He ran a trembling hand through his sweat-damp curls, wincing with his fingers snagged on several snarled tangles. Not for the first time, he cursed his weird dreams. Couldn't he just have wish-fulfillment dreams involving hot celebrities, like a normal person? He supposed it could be counted as a small mercy that this particular dream hadn't lingered in his memory for long at all. He had a feeling that there hadn't been much to enjoy about whatever scene he had been acting as voyeur to.

Sitting up and pushing his blanket off, Honey glanced at the clock on his bedside table. 7:30pm. Not that bad, all things considered. He'd been worried that he had slept later into the night and accidentally fucked up his sleep schedule more than it already was. Rubbing at his eyes, he stumbled off his bed and over to his dresser. He grabbed a pair of threadbare fleece pajama pants and an old t-shirt out of his top drawer, pulling them on with stiff and clumsy limbs. On second thought, maybe a nap hadn't been such a good idea after all. He hated the way his body felt after short sleeps, like he was 60 instead of 16. Didn't stop him from taking naps whenever he had the opportunity, though. What could he say? He liked sleep, sleep just didn't like him. When he felt his stomach growl plaintively, Honey decided to venture downstairs in search of something to eat. Even if there weren't any leftovers from dinner, he would just make himself something quick and easy. He knew some foster parents could be weird about the kids making their own meals. Helena and Wendall didn't seem the type, but better safe than sorry, he figured. Exiting his room, he padded down the hall, heading downstairs.

When he got to the kitchen, he was surprised to find Helena and Wendall there, seemingly in the middle of making dinner. Or well, Helena was in the middle of making dinner. Wnedall seemed to be dividing his time between helping and pestering his wife. Helena thankfully seemed to find it amusing, a fondly exasperated expression on her face as she smacked his hand away from the cheese she was grating. Honey had to admit that it made the older man seem a little less intimidating, watching the pair interact. Helena noticed his presence first, nodding at him.

"Morning, sleepyhead. I came up to say hello when I got home, but you were snoring away in your room," Helena said, grating the last of the chunk of marble cheese in her hand.

Cheeks heating a bit in embarrassment, Honey gave an apologetic little shrug. "Sorry, I must have been more tired than I thought."

"Ahh, don't you mind Helly. A growing boy needs lots of rest. I would'a slept 20 hours a day if I could when I was your age," Wendall said, not quite laughing, but definitely making an amused sound.

"Of course, dear. Now that you're up though, would you mind getting the garlic bread ready? That's what this cheese is for." Helena requested, gesturing toward the loaf of Italian bread on the cutting board.

Never one to pass up the opportunity for cheesy garlic bread, Honey let out a hum of agreement. He found the butter and garlic powder thankfully already on the counter, so he didn't have to worry about hunting through the cupboards for them. After he washed his hands, he retrieved the bread knife from the drawer, slicing about half of the loaf, buttering each slice before laying them out on a baking tray. He sprinkled the garlic powder and cheese on top, popping the tray into the open below the lasagna that looked like it was almost done. Honey felt his stomach growl in anticipation. While he wasn't the biggest fan of pasta in general, he had a special place in his heart for lasagna. Probably because it was so filling, and pretty damn hard to screw it up. Honey noticed that Wendall and Helena both seemed preoccupied with cleaning up, so he made himself useful, setting the table with knives, forks, and glasses, as well as a glass for everyone. It was instinct at this point, drilled into him by countless foster families over the years. He still felt a little warm when Helena gave him a genuine thank you at she finished wiping down the counter.

Once the lasagna and garlic bread had been taken from the oven and they'd all sat down to eat, Honey found his mind wandering back to the Cullens in general, and Emmett in particular. He found himself curious about how people other than M.L and their family viewed the Cullens. After a moment or two of debating whether he really wanted to bring it up, he decided to just bite the bullet and ask.

"Do you guys know the, uh, Cullen family?" he asked, wincing at how awkwardly that question had come out. Wendall furrowed his brow as if he had to think about it, but Helena nodded right away.

"Esme Cullen is on a lot of the same volunteer committees that I am. A very lovely woman, outside and in," Helena answered. Wendall smacked the table with his palm, seeming to remember something.

"Right! She's the one that made those fancy cupcakes for the bake sale in August. Seems like a mighty fine woman."

"Of course that's what would jog your memory, old man. I swear, all you think about is food," Helena laughed, shaking her head at her husband, before turning her attention back to Honey. "Her husband, Dr. Cullen, patched Wendall up after a nail gun accident, too. Why do you ask?"

Honey shrugged one shoulder, attempting to look casual. "No real reason, I guess. The kids go to school with me, and they just seemed interesting"

"Well I can't say I've had much interaction with the kids, but they seem to be nice enough. They're certainly a very beautiful family, that's for certain. Has one of them caught your eye?" Helena asked, which- No. It didn't matter how nice and kind his new foster parents seemed, he was not going there with them.

"No! No, nothing like that. I was just talking with my friend M.L about them, and they said that the Cullens are sorta weird, so-"

Helena interrupted, looking actually angry for the first time since Honey had met her. "Don't you listen to that kind of talk, Honey. People around here are so set in their 'right' way of doing things, they think anyone who deviates is weird and wrong. Hell, folks thought Wendall and I were strange when we decided to start fostering, didn't they?"

"Sure did, Helly," Wendall agreed, nodding along with his wife. "I think that Dr. and Mrs. Cullen are admirable, adopting and fostering four teens at once, and at such a young age themselves."

"No, no, I don't think M.L meant it like that," Honey interjected, feeling the need to defend his new friend. He didn't want his new foster parents to think he was hanging around with some close-minded idiot. "I mean, they know I'm a foster kid, and they aren't weird about it, so."

"Hmm, alright then," Helena nodded, looking somewhat appeased. "In any case, don't let other people's assessments skew your own. They aren't perfect, nobody is, but from what I can tell they're good people, they don't cause any sort of trouble. Beyond that, there's not much else I can say on the matter."

Honey nodded, letting the conversation go. Before long, talk turned to other things, Helena and Wendall recounting their days and encouraging Honey to do the same. As the evening wore on into the night, Honey found the Cullens slipping right out of his mind, at least for now.

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When Honey glanced out the window during breakfast the next morning, he was disgusted to find that the rain from the night before had frozen overnight, leaving the ground treacherous and icy. For a few moments he very seriously contemplated saying fuck it and going back to bed, but he doubted that his foster parents would be very supportive of that decision, so he decided to suck it up and deal with it.

After he had rinsed his plate, Helena handed him his lunch, frowning out the window. "I'm going to drive you into school today, I don't want you walking to the bus stop with the ground like that."

"It's fine, I don't mind taking the bus," Honey tried to protest. He didn't want to inconvenience her, or give her something to potentially hang over his head.

"Well, I mind. You'll slip and break your neck if I send you down to the bus," Helena said, tone allowing for zero argument. "Besides, I can bring Georgia back her dishes from the last community center potluck while I'm there."

Deciding that there was little use in trying to talk the woman out of her decision now that her mind was made up, Honey shrugged. "Okay. Uhm, thank you."

"No need to thank me," Helena waved him off, crouching down in front of the lower cupboards, seemingly hunting for something. "Wendall already salted the walkway before he left this morning, would you mind going out and starting the car for me? The keys are hanging up by the door."

Honey let out a hum of acknowledgement, exiting the kitchen. He slipped his sneakers on by the front door, frowning at the lack of tread. He would need to get new winter boots soon, if this kind of weather was par for the course in this shitty little town. He shrugged on his coat and flung his school bag over his shoulder before he grabbed the car keys off of their hook beside the front door, opening the door and braving the chilly outdoors. A blast of icy wind seemed to cut straight through his thin jacket, causing him to shiver violently. As quickly as possible without slipping and cracking his head open, Honey scurried off the porch and over to the car. He felt the same prickling sensation of being watched that he had the morning before, but he brushed it off, focusing on not dying. Once he had unlocked the car, he cracked open the drivers side door for long enough to start the car and grab the ice scraper from the back seat and deposit his backpack before closing the door. He set about removing the ice from all the windows and mirrors, cursing his lack of gloves as he did so. There, now he and Helena were even, he didn't owe her anything for the drive to school.

Helena came out just as Honey was finishing up the final window, a cloth bag hanging from her elbow and two travel mugs in her hands. She looked surprised, but smiled nonetheless. "You didn't have to do that, but thank you very much, sweetheart."

"No problem, I was out here doing nothing anyway," Honey said, giving a little self deprecating shrug. Helena made her way down the porch steps and over to the car, handing over one of the travel mugs. Honey was grateful for the subtle warmth that the mug provided.

Helena seemed to notice his lack of gloves just then, and shook her head. "I didn't even think to grab you any winter gear from the bin, I'm sorry. There's a pair of gloves in the dash though, you can wear them for today."

"Thanks," Honey said, making his way around the car and getting in the passenger seat. He slid the travel mug into the cup holder, put on his seatbelt, and opened up the glove box. Sure enough, there was a pair of nondescript black gloves sitting their, which he gratefully pulled over his stiff and chilly hands.

Helena opened the driver's side door, climbing inside. After a moment of getting herself situated, she put the car in reverse, carefully backing out of the driveway before heading down the street. Honey shifted, trying to get comfortable. Honestly, he had always felt kind of awkward riding in peoples' cars, like there was some secret passenger etiquette that no one had ever bothered letting him in on. He felt that as about a lot of things, now that he thought about it- a lot more than he was comfortable admitting out loud.

He lifted his mug out of the cup holder, taking a tentative sip. It was surprisingly good, the taste of chocolate and cinnamon spreading over his tongue. "This is delicious, Helena, thanks."

"Thanks, but it's nothing groundbreaking," Helena said, waving him off with a little smile. "It's just hot chocolate mix, a splash of hazelnut coffee, and cinnamon. I used to work at a little sandwich shop when I was in school, so I did a lot of experimenting during lulls."

"Well, I'd chalk this one up as a success," Honey murmured, prompting a small laugh from Helena.

After that, the pair lapsed into silence. It wasn't uncomfortable, really. They simply didn't have anything more to say to each other. Honey appreciated that his foster mother didn't try to push for more conversation. He still felt a bit off kilter from his unremembered dream the night before, and he wasn't really up to the task of carrying on small talk right now. Instead, he gazed out the window, finding himself endlessly relieved that he hadn't had to brave to treacherous ice all the way to the bus stop. He wasn't quite ready to die today, thank you. When they passed the bus stop, it was empty. M.L's parents must have had the same thought process as Helena, thank god.

The ride was relatively quick, despite the need for a reduced pace. Instead of dropping him off at the door, Helena pulled into the parking lot, near the back. Once they were stopped, she unbuckled her seatbelt. "I've got to run in to drop off those dishes."

Honey paused. As much as he sort of liked his new foster mom, he didn't really want to walk into school with her. His already low social status couldn't take that kind of critical hit right now. He waited until Helena had gathered her bag and climbed out before unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out on his side. Whether picking up on his reluctance or just in a hurry, Helena didn't linger to wait for him.

"I'll see you after school, have a good day, sweetheart."

"Yeah, you too," Honey returned, opening the back door to grab his bag out. As he did so, he heard the thunderous roar of an engine, the kind designed to grab someone's attention as obnoxiously as possible. He glanced up, and found himself looking at a huge white Jeep tearing through the parking lot. A very familiar Jeep…

It took a few seconds, but when it clicked, Honey remembered just where he had seen that Jeep before- speeding past him as it drenched him in filthy puddle water. He narrowed his eyes, waiting for the vehicle to come to a stop. He was definitely going to give the driver a piece of his mind. What kind of asshole drove like that, so recklessly? Even now, they couldn't possibly doing the speed limit. He watched as the Jeep pulled into a spot at the opposite end of the row. The driver's side door was flung open, a large, hulking form jumping with surprising grace to the icy blacktop below without the slightest bit of thought for the slippery ice. Honey felt an exasperating flutter in his stomach as he caught sight of Emmett Cullen's infuriatingly handsome boyish grin.

Fuck his life. _Of course_ the asshole who had made him walk home in soggy shoes on his first day in Charlotte was the _same_ asshole who made him absolutely certain of his status as a total homo. Still, Honey squared his shoulders. Greek god in human form or not, Honey was still on a mission to tear him a new one.

"Hey, Cullen!" He shouted, beginning to walk as a slow but determined pace. Emmett glanced up at the sound of his voice. At first he looked happy, and then confused. Then, when his gaze flickered over Honey's shoulder, his expression morphed into one of horror.

They say that in moments of extreme, life threatening danger, everything seems to happen in slow motion. Honey could say from experience that this was complete and utter bullshit. When you were in danger, everything moved so much quicker, information processed all at once. For example, in that moment, Honey was aware of several things; Firstly, Emmett was on the other side of the parking lot, a good 15 or 20 cars away from Honey's position; secondly, a boxy blue van had lost control, slipping on black ice and careening at a high speed toward Honey; Thirdly, and finally, Honey had absolutely no chance of getting out of the way before the van turned him into a grease smear. He dropped to the ground, making himself small and covering his head in what he knew would be a futile protection effort as the van bore down on him.

There was the panicked honking of a horn, the squeal of tires. Something hard collided with his back and knocking him to the ground. He struck his head, not hard enough to be overly concerned, but enough for a pounding headache to form immediately. Finally, there was an ear splitting crash. Honey felt the pelt of glass raining down on him, but thankfully his skin was protected by his layers of clothing. He screwed his eyes shut, waiting for the agony to hit… But it never did. After a moment of hesitation, his eyes opened, confusion echoing through his aching skull.

Emmett cullen kneeled above him, back hunched over to shield Honey's form. To his shock and disbelief, Honey saw that the van was on Emmett's back, the larger boy seeming to easily bear over two tonnes of metal and machinery on his back. His expression showed no strain, only concern for the boy beneath him

"H-how are you…" Honey stuttered, eyes wide and searching as they flicked between Emmett and the van. Seeming to notice Honey's distress, Emmett hastily rolled his shoulders back, shrugging the van off his back and causing all four wheels to settle of the pavement with a loud groan and pop.

"Shit, shit…" Emmett cursed, before suddenly reaching out and cupping Honey's face in two strong, ice cold hands. A bit hysterically, Honey noticed that Emmett's hands almost comically dwarved his face, almost covering it completely. "You can't tell anyone about this, okay?"

"You're hurting me," Honey murmured, trying to squirm away from Emmett's unintentionally rough grip.

Emmett snatched his hands away from his face, looking as if he had been burned. His expression was one of horror and panic. "Fuck! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Please, don't tell anyone. I'm sorry."

Before Honey could even begin to formulate a response, Emmett quickly maneuvered his way past him. He tried to watch him leave, but the other boy was already gone by the time he managed to turn his head in his direction. His cheeks throbbed dully where Emmett had gripped them, adding to the already splitting pain in his head.

It was around then that he began to process the screaming.

 _0000000000000000000000000000000000000_

 _Well, that seems like as good a place to stop as any, before this chapter gets too long. I wouldn't want my lovely readers to start getting spoiled by lengthy chapters, after all. I'm actually really happy with how much I got done with this one, and I'm hoping to get an update out soon, since I know where we're going from here instead of floundering around without a clue. Don't forget to read and review, it feeds the beast that is my ego_.

 _PS: Helena's special hot chocolate brew is something I do at my work all the time. It's delicious._


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